


They Sure Do Grow Up Fast

by Nasobem



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Growing Up, Living Together, M/M, Pining, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:25:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nasobem/pseuds/Nasobem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As cute as Harry used to be, it’s in that moment that Louis decides that his time as The Cutest is over. Harry’s still prettier, obviously. That’s probably not something Liam can ever aspire to be, Louis somewhat foolishly thinks right then, what with his dorky big nose and his bushy eyebrows and no sense of fashion or, well, hair styling.</p><p>But the way Liam's eyes and nose get all crinkly when he smiles properly, and his whole fucking face lights up, it makes Louis smile too, completely against his will, and with a huff he mentally crowns Liam as the new King of Cute.</p><p>(It's the Best Friend's Little Brother AU no-one asked for. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure that after writing over 20 thousand words of fanfic, it's safe to say I'm like, a proper fan.
> 
> Whatever.
> 
> This would not have happened without tumblr user feferi, who unintentionally dragged me into this hell, and manjolras, who is a terrible enabler. And, of course - Harry: I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> Major Warning for a tiny bit of Liam with Bieber hair. It's rather graphic. You were warned.  
> (Actual Warnings in End Notes)

Louis meets Liam when the kid is barely twelve and so obviously Harry’s younger brother it makes Louis laugh- curly hair, wide eyes, dangly and awkward. He’s not as pretty as Harry though, even though Harry’s the one who just entered puberty a year ago and should be the one with bad skin and greasy hair.

Harry’s already going upstairs to his room, when Louis spots Liam standing in the door to the kitchen, staring at Louis wide eyed. 

“Hey, I’m Louis, Harry’s mate,” he introduces himself. “You’re Liam, right?”

Liam nods. His hair is doing a pretty good job at defying gravity, but unfortunately not in the sexy, styled kind of way. He’s also holding the most adorable mug ever. It looks sort of self-made, surface and colour not quite even and not exactly round as a whole, but then Louis sees the small knob that makes for a nose and the two big, happy eyes and bushy eyebrows.

“Oh my god,” Louis says, beaming, “That cup is _amazing_! Where did you get that?”

Liam doesn’t answer, but doesn’t protest either when Louis bounds up to him to further inspect the cup. He drags a finger over the slightly raised eyebrows and the nose bump. “That’s the coolest mug I have ever seen,” Louis tells Liam honestly, and Liam starts smiling like the sun just stayed up an hour longer just for him.

 

Louis and Harry quickly become absolutely inseparable. It’s only a few months after he’s been at Harry’s for the first time until Louis notices that he’s as comfortable in the fancy semi-detached house as he is at his own. It also has the benefit of lacking the four nosy, giggly girls demanding Louis’ attention that he has at home. Not that he doesn’t love them to death; he just needs some space every now and then.

There is, of course, Liam. Technically. The kid tends to leave them alone though, preferring to hide in his room with a bunch of superhero comics. Whenever he’s around Louis, he stares at him a lot, stutters and blushes and laughs at pretty much everything that Louis says. He also doesn’t fully understand sarcasm, which Louis abuses to no end, until eventually Liam starts to get the hang of it.

Liam’s dorky, but pretty cute.

 

Mainly he’s just Harry’s younger brother though, so Louis doesn’t care much about him past ruffling his hair and being a bit condescending, because he might hang out with a fourteen year old, but Haz is sort of special that way so it doesn’t count, and a kid four years younger than him isn’t really Louis’ style.

Of course, when it comes down to it, Louis doesn’t complain when he has to pick up Liam from school sometimes, or do some homework with him. He has four baby sisters, so he knows how much having two boys can suck for Anne with a full time job and no dad to help out.

 

One day in summer when it’s unusually warm, Harry and Louis take Liam and his best friend Niall, a little Irish ball of sunshine with a mouth like a sailor, out to have ice cream. Niall giggles a lot at Louis, which for some reason makes Liam blush even more than usually, which Louis didn’t think was possible.

At one point Harry gets up to go to the toilet, leaving Louis with two nervous pre-teens (though actually, Niall might be thirteen). Which is when a bunch of kids walk by, stop and stare at Liam.

“Hey, look at that!” one of them says, “It’s the Payne kid!”

And they all laugh and point and one of them makes a really nasty comment, so Louis gets up, tells them coldly to fuck off or he’ll beat them up and watches them hurry away.

He doesn’t think much about the way Liam looks pretty distressed, even though the boys barely got started, and how Niall’s face is red and angry and they look really helpless. It’s stupid, but back then, the thing he focuses on is the part where they call Liam “Payne”.

At first Louis assumes that must be Niall’s last name, until he sees Liam James Payne as the full name on some school form lying around.

He never asks about it, but one day Harry let’s drop that well, technically Li’s just his like, half-brother. It explains a lot. Well. Mostly the name. And the eyebrows. Poor kid.

 

He only learns of the wonder that is a flustered, indignant Liam two years later, because apparently, fourteen is when Liam has his emo phase and he actually straightens his hair and brushes it all into his face. 

Admittedly, Louis might have had a Bieber hair phase too, at some point. But he doesn’t have the luscious locks that adorn Harry’s and Liam’s head, and also it looked kinda hot. His first girlfriend liked it, which was all the confirmation he had needed at the time, because he might not have been into her, but she had a great taste in fashion.

Louis can’t help but laugh hysterically the first time he sees the hair, and even more so the first time he catches Liam standing in the bathroom with a straightener, biting his lower lip with a look of utter concentration.

“Well,” Louis drawls, leaning against the door frame and looking down on Liam, “If it isn’t the little Miss Styles. Didn’t know Harry had a younger sister.”

Liam twitches, but somehow manages not to burn himself with the iron. Louis’ a bit disappointed. 

“Very funny, Louis. Why don’t you go be immature and silly with Harry, instead of being an arse for no reason”, Liam says with what could be a proper frown if it wasn’t on Liam’s face.

Louis chuckles. He doesn’t even need a comeback; Liam seems to be acutely aware of how lame that answer was. “Will do,” he grins instead, ruffling Liam’s hair just to spite him and skipping off to Harry’s room.

“Your brother,” he calls out whilst throwing himself on Harry’s bed, “Is ridiculous and stupidly easy to tease.” He stretches, reveling in the way his toes don’t hang over the end of Harry’s bed. He’s a bit concerned about how long he has until he has to look up to the baby giraffe Harry’s evolving into.

Harry turns around in his chair, goes a bit too far and has to keep turning until he’s facing Louis once more. It makes Louis incredibly happy. 

“You shouldn’t be too mean to Liam,” Harry says slowly. “I mean, you can tease him, but you know how he is about you.” 

Louis frowns. “No, Harold, I don’t. Pray tell, how is he about me?”

Harry sighs. “He has a giant crush on you, Lou. Always had. Maybe like. A no homo crush. But he definitely worships the ground you walk on.”

“What, like you?” Louis cackles. He’s well aware of how much Harry looks up to him, enjoying it while it lasts. 

There’s the hint of a blush on Harry’s cheeks. “A bit. Not really. I like you as like, a friend, and I know that I like boys, too, sort of, but like. Not you. Not really, anyways.”

Louis blinks. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, okay. That’s cool. You know I’m gay, right?”

Harry blinks too, a bit sleepy and with a slowly growing smile. “Yeah. I guess. Cool.”

 

So really, there’s a good reason why Louis doesn’t really remember the part about Liam’s sort of crush on him, considering it’s sort of overshadowed by his and Harry’s mutual sort of coming out to each other.

 

He spends the rest of the year being a bit of an arse towards Liam, which he feels bad for later on, but Liam makes it so easy, and Louis loves seeing him blush and splutter and look all frowny and disapproving like he’s fucking thirty or something, whilst still having to occasionally flip his stupid hair to be able to even see Louis.

 

One time Harry takes Louis home because he’s really pissed and doesn’t want to walk around like that in front of his little sisters. Harry just drops him on the couch and goes to fetch some water.

“You’re being really irresponsible, you know that, right?” 

Louis groans and hides his face in the pillows. Fucking Liam and his fucking judgmental face, he can picture it without even needing to look up.

“I’m having fun,” he says, voice muffled by the pillows, so he sits up a bit, still refusing to turn around to face Liam. “I’m having fun, Liam,” he repeats, “Do you know what that is? Fun? Don’t think you do, do you, Liam.”

His words are probably still a bit slurred, because Liam just snorts and then says something along the lines of “He’s really drunk off his arse, Haz,” to Harry, who’s apparently back from the kitchen, hopefully with water and aspirin.

Louis flips him off without looking, hoping it’s clear that it’s directed at Liam, not Harry, because he really needs that aspirin right now.

 

They have that discussion a lot, him and Liam. Liam is worried that Louis is a bad influence on Harry or something, which is ridiculous, because Harry is old enough to do shit on his own and Liam is just fourteen. 

Louis on the other side thinks that Liam isn’t doing childhood properly, that he’s gonna regret being so stuck up and serious all the time later on when he has to be serious and stuck up and doesn’t have the choice to be silly and happy.

 

Then Louis has to graduate sixth form while simultaneously applying to university, which is a right pain, so he doesn’t see much of Liam for a while, because Harry mostly comes over to Louis’ place.

 

He does see him on the dinner their families have together the evening before Louis’ graduation, and a week later at the small, private wedding of Anne and Robin. Both times he tries to be a bit nicer to Liam, because Harry told him to.

 

“Louu,” he had whined, pretty pink mouth forming a pout, “Please be nice to Liam? He’s having a really hard time right now, you know, at school. Please Lou? Pleeeease,” and then he proceeded to poke Louis gently in the side until he gave in.

 

At the wedding Louis sits next to Liam for some time, and asks him about school and trouble. It’s hard to get something out of the kid, Liam clearly expecting Louis to do something mean any second which, well, Louis might have earned that a bit. Eventually he manages to put the pieces together, with a lot of probing and assessing Liam’s reaction. It’s helpful that Liam is an open book, easier to read then an Ikea instruction.

So he comes to the conclusion that there’s a bullying problem. A pretty big one, actually. He says so, a bit bluntly maybe but trying not to sound mean about it. Liam nods defeatedly.

“It’s just, I’m pretty weak ‘n, like, a proper nerd,” he murmurs into his orange juice. “They’re all so much stronger than me, and I don’t know how to fight back, and I don’t even actually wanna like, hit them?”

A deep sigh escapes Louis’ lips. He can feel Harry staring at him from across the room. “You know,” he says, “You know that strength isn’t about punching people in the face, right?”

Liam blushes. “Of course I know that, Louis, I’m not stupid, that’s what everybody says, but that doesn’t help me when they, well, do punch me in the face.” He sounds a bit annoyed, like he expected better advice from Louis. Like he doesn’t feel taken seriously. 

Well, that’s one thing Louis knows how to deal with. It’s Harry’s biggest fear that Louis doesn’t take him seriously due to their two year age gap, so he can easily imagine how much worse it must be for Liam.

“No, let me finish,” he says calmly, “It’s not about actually punching them. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t help if you could. ‘S all about the attitude. You see, if you know you’re willing and able to fight back, they’re gonna know it too, and that already makes you a much less appealing victim. You probably won’t even have to raise a fist, you just need the spirit. Do you know what I mean?”

After a short pause, Liam nods. And he smiles. It’s ridiculously adorable. 

 

As cute as Harry used to be, it’s in that moment that Louis decides that his time as The Cutest is over. Harry’s still prettier, obviously. That’s probably not something Liam can ever aspire to be, Louis somewhat foolishly thinks right then, what with his dorky big nose and his bushy eyebrows and no sense of fashion or, well, hair styling.

But the way Liam’s eyes and nose get all crinkly when he smiles properly, and his whole fucking face lights up, it makes Louis smile too, completely against his will, and with a huff he mentally crowns Liam as the new King of Cute.

 

A week later, Harry makes up for losing this particular crown by forcing Louis to actually go to the audition for the Drama department of the University Louis really, really wants to go to. Harry says they’ll go clubbing and gives Louis an address to drive them to, only to then physically drag him into the theatre.

Louis gets in, and cries all over Harry’s favourite jumper, he’s so happy.

 

It’s not entirely unexpected when Liam starts boxing less than a month after the wedding.

But Louis’ off to University as soon as the first leafs start falling, and that’s it for a while. He does get pictures, tons of them, and skypes with Harry every weekend, so he can see some of the change Liam goes through. He fills out a tiny bit, just enough to go from ‘skinny with the air of a twelve year old’ to looking closer to his actual age. 

Then his friend Niall uploads a video where he plays the guitar and Liam sings. It might be Wonderwall, but there’s talent there. 

And on Liam’s fifteenth birthday Harry calls him into his room so Louis can congratulate him via Skype, and Louis makes loud sobbing noises and praises the Lord and gets his roommate Zayn to sing Hallelujah like the fucking pro he is because THE CURLS ARE BACK!

Needless to say, Liam blushes bright red and shakes his head, but there’s a tentative smile on his lips and he even giggles a bit.

 

Unfortunately, this is also when Zayn makes a really inappropriate comment about ‘those curls’ and in what situation one might be happy about getting to pull on them. He does so with a filthy grin, because he knows how much Louis has fantasized about getting Harry’s mouth certain places by tugging on his hair – in a completely hypothetical, not-actually-interested-but-who-fucking-wouldn’t way. And then Louis has to think about Liam’s ridiculous frowny face and-

At that time, he’s mostly weirded out by it. Liam is fifteen. That would be fucking gross. Louis hits Zayn up the head and reminds him of just how Not Okay that is. Also, Liam is cute and sweet and so utterly not Louis’ type, it’s not actually a problem. 

However, the seed is planted. It won’t become a proper flower of a thought until much, much later, but it’s there, and Louis will always point out how really, ‘it’s all Zayns fault’. Which is rubbish, but oh, well.

 

They get along pretty well that summer. Louis has gotten a lot mellower over the year, and Harry makes it even better by still being as cuddly as always. So basically, Louis spends almost two months sitting around on Harry’s lap and chatting with Liam about footie. It’s nice, and easy.

The actual fun part is that Liam may or may not think that Harry and Louis are fucking. Louis’ isn’t entirely sure, but it’s possible. Mostly because he doesn’t even raise an eyebrow when Louis threatens Haz with “No sex for a week, so give me the bloody remote, darling”. 

They aren’t, is the thing. Everybody thinks they are, and obviously Louis knows why. But the touching and sleeping in the same bed and holding hands, it’s mostly because Harry’s a touchy person and both of them are single and missing the physical contact.

Harry’s also sort of trying to make this bloke, Nick Grimshaw, jealous. Louis made a big thing out of that, because Grimshaw happens to be nine years older than Harry and kind of a twat if you ask Louis, until Harry clenched his fists and stuttered shit about being in love and “don’t judge me Lou, please, not you.”

And really, there’s no way Louis can say no to a teary eyed Harry looking him straight in the eye and hiccupping at him how much he needs Louis to “be okay with this”.

So they’re pretty couply, and Grimshaw watches them like a hawk, trying and absolutely failing at being subtle about staring at Harry’s legs and lips and eyes – because Harry keeps getting prettier with every year as Louis heart swells with brotherly pride – and Liam watches them with a bemused frown and tells them to use protection once.

Still, he might be joking. Louis doesn’t actually care enough to ask. No harm done either way.

He thinks.

 

Sometime later Louis comes home for a three day weekend, and finds out that Harry isn’t the only one pathetically in love. 

He’s sprawled lazily on Harry’s bed and watching him sleep at his desk, unwilling to wake him up quite yet, when Liam comes rushing into the room cheeks flushed and clearly upset. Louis immediately and aggressively shushes him, which works for some reason. 

Liam’s puppy eyes however have become even more effective in combination with his adorable floppy hair, so Louis gets up with an overdramatic sigh and takes Liam by the elbow, closing the door behind him so Harry’s nap can continue undisturbed.

“What’s up, did you get the sudden urge to straighten your hair and don’t know what to do about it?” Louis asks, nudging Liam with a wink, but Liam doesn’t smile back.

“I have a date!” he says instead, and not in the way people usually say that, but completely and utterly panicked.

“Okay,” Louis tries to calm him down, “That’s, um. That sounds terrible? Do you not want to go on that date? Is she secretly a three-headed monster? A teacher? An _Arsenal fan_?”

“What? No. No! Danielle is lovely, she’s amazing, absolutely perfect, but that’s exactly the problem!”

Louis waits for him to continue, but he’s starting to see that the panic is most likely triggered entirely by teenager first-date-nerves. Not that Louis ever had that problem. He was completely and utterly unfazed by his first date. (Probably because it was a girl and he was as gay as he is now, but. You know.)

Liam’s distressed look turns to the floor. 

“I don’t know what to wear,” he mumbles.

 

So Louis drags him into his room and goes through his closet.

“Fucking – why do you only own plaid? Did you drown your closet in some kind of magic plaid dye? Are you colour-blind? Did you accidentally tell your mum that you really like plaid flannel when you meant to say plain t-shirts?”

Liam gets as far as “I like pl-” before Louis shushes him once more, this time by throwing a pair of dark jeans that isn’t skinny, but at least slim fit right in his face. “Stop,” he hisses, “Don’t even, or I might have to kill you.” 

He eventually finds a dark green button up that at least isn’t flannel, and the colour suits Liam. 

“Wear that and…wait, show me your arms,” he says, not waiting for Liam but instead grabbing his wrist and shoving back the sleeve of his Henley. “Hm. Yeah. Good enough. So, wear that, and roll up the sleeves to your elbows. And no watch, no matter how much you want to, it looks awful. Use your phone if you need to know the time.”

Liam looks like he’s about to cry, but Louis is like, 89% sure it’s happy tears.

 

Christmas Eve, Louis makes out with Harry in front of Nick, desperately trying not to start laughing because it’s so gross and weird and silly, and for a second he catches Liam’s face, and Liam looks only mildly surprised. 

Then Nick drags Harry under a mistletoe and they kiss, and Harry blushes like mad and bursts out that he kind of has a “big crush on you and like, if you wanna like, go out with me, I’d like that. Um. A lot.”

Louis is proud of him. He knows he’s probably looking at Harry grinning like a complete idiot, but that’s okay, because Harry is his baby and he’s allowed to.

Except then he sees Liam’s face again, and this time he doesn’t look as unaffected, although he’s obviously trying to hide it. He looks pained, and hides his face in Niall’s shoulder, who sighs and pats his back. Louis doesn’t get it.

“To Harry and Nick and their gross ironic hipster love story!” he bellows, stealing someone’s champagne glass and toasting the crowd, pointedly not thinking about how Liam’s unhappy face made Louis feel protective and upset himself for a moment.

 

The only bad thing about Harry being so embarrassingly happy with Nick is that it sort of makes Louis even more aware of his own love life. His non-existent love life.

The thing is, he dates guys. Sometimes it’s just a quick shag, sometimes proper dating, the longest relationship actually lasts half a year. But most guys dump him after a couple months, because he’s too loud, to bratty, too clingy, too close to Harry – there are a lot of reasons. 

The one about Harry is why he’s dumped just after Christmas, and he doesn’t try it again after that for some time. It’s just easier to let big muscly guys fuck him thinking he’s some cute, brainless, shallow twink.

He does get a bit grumpy when Harry reveals that not only things are still fabulous between him and Nick, even though he apparently won’t get the D until he’s eighteen – Louis sends Nick a somewhat obscene ‘thank you/I’d have killed you otherwise’ card for that– but Liam is going steady with the Danielle kid Louis dressed him up for. 

Danielle seems to be very sweet and caring and they are sickeningly adorable. Louis has to look at way too many photos, because just like Louis was proud of Harry’s first proper relationship with that girl Louis doesn’t even remember the name of, Harry celebrates his little brother being ‘all grown up and gentlemanly’ with his girlfriend.

It’s not hard to tell that Liam would rather not Harry be so invested in his private life. He actually skypes Louis and persuades him to make Harry stop.

Louis laughs at Liam’s desperate, embarrassed face for three minutes straight and then promises to do his best.

He doesn’t really, though. Liam should be grateful to have Danielle and not complain about Harry being awkward. When Louis whines to Zayn about it, he just laughs and, being the total arse that he sometimes is, shows him the fucking engagement ring he’s getting for Perrie.

 

His summer holidays start just in time for Louis to attend Harry’s graduation. He spots Liam with a girl in his arms after and comes up to them.

“Why hello Leeroy,” he says, giving Liam a pat on the back, “Wanna introduce this young lady?”

For some reason, Liam is terribly tense and nervous the entire conversation. He mostly answers with ‘Hmm’s and ‘Yeah’s , shuffles around, and while Danielle, or “Dani” as he calls her, is very charming at first, she gets increasingly awkward, shooting Liam weird looks every now and then.

 

So Louis lets them be, goes back to bothering Harry and Nick. It’s great fun to insult Nick and be insulted back, enough for him to eventually forget about Liam and his odd girlfriend over snark and sarcasm. 

 

He is violently reminded of it when he finds Liam sobbing on a bench at a lake in August. Louis is taking the twins on a walk when he stumbles across the boy, who is shaking and red eyed and absolutely devastated by his break up.

Daisy and Phoebe immediately jump all over him, Daisy almost crying herself, and after getting the most important facts out of Liam – Danielle’s gone, yes he did know it was going to happen, no, he doesn’t want to talk about it, no he’s not okay but he will be – Louis takes him back home with him.

 

Lottie’s over at a friend’s house, but Félicité and the twins try their best to cheer Liam up by climbing on him and bringing him sweets and convincing him to watch Tangled. Louis steals Liam’s phone to call Niall, who comes over to violently cuddle Liam as well and play on his guitar and tell silly jokes. It sort of works, because Liam stops crying, but he’s still very much shaken. Harry comes over as well, two hours after they have finished Tangled, and takes Liam home, and then Louis doesn’t see him for a week.

 

The next Saturday he’s sitting in the kitchen watching Harry bake cookies, occasionally tasting the dough or tickling Harry, when Liam slinks in from his room. 

“Jesus, Liam,” Louis says before he can stop himself, “You look like a zombie.”

Liam doesn’t even answer, he just shrugs and does something that looks really strange and might have been an attempt at smiling. It could also be a seizure for all Louis can tell.

Harry sighs and moves away from the fridge so Liam can pour himself a glass of milk. Louis gapes.

“Okay, this cannot go on. Harold, why did you not tell me about the zombie living in your house?”

“Lou, he’s still getting over the break up, give him some time, he’s just barely sixteen!”, Harry protests, like Liam’s not even there.

Louis just shakes his head. “Liam, I cannot allow this to go on. This girl does not define your life, okay? She changed it, yeah, big deal. Things change, Liam, that’s how life works.” He pauses and studies Liam, who’s staring at him with his glass half raised to his lips. 

“I think”, Louis continues, “I think you need to change something yourself. To, um. Show yourself that change can be good, and you can change stuff too, and it’s all not that big of a deal.”

Liam just keeps staring at him.

“Louis,” Harry says, turning around and giving him an incredulous look, “That’s complete bullshit. That’s like, more stupid than my plans. He’s not upset because something changed, he’s upset because he feels bad about not-“

“No,” Liam interrupts him. Louis was about to do so himself, but now him and Harry both shut up to look at Liam, who’s shifting his weight nervously and tugging at the hem of his shirt with one hand.

“I think it’s a good idea,” he says. “I think I need change. She, uh. Danielle liked my hair. I think I want to cut it all off.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, then Louis makes a choked noise and Harry lets out a burst of startled laughter. “What, like, a buzz cut? Like I threatened that one time when mum wouldn’t let us play FiFa?”

Liam nods. “Yeah. Like that. Except it’s not like it’s mum’s choice what I do with my hair, right?”

“But Liam,” Louis says, slowly and deliberately, “You can’t do that. You can’t. No way. It’s illegal.”

“I don’t think it is, Louis,” Liam replies with a small frown. “Now, will you help me or what?”

Harry and Louis look at each other, having a full blown argument without saying a word, and then Harry smiles at Liam and says, “sure, I’ll do it,” and Louis whines and smashes his head against the kitchen table, but rushes after the two because it’s not like he’d _ever_ miss this.

 

Harry starts by cutting off fistfuls of Liam’s curls and throwing them in the bin. Liam looks like he’s trying really hard not to cry, but the strange thing is that with every soft thud of hair falling he seems to breathe a little easier. “You know,” Harry says conversationally, “I think this might make you look a bit older.” 

At first, Louis thinks it’s just a lie to make Liam feel better, but then Harry stars actually shaving the short, unruly mess into a proper buzz cut and Liam sits a bit straighter, and yeah, he looks older, could probably pass as seventeen. Louis says so, and receives a tentative smile in return.

Finally they all stand next to each other in front of the mirror and stare at Liam’s reflection. 

Louis decides to go for honesty. “I still like the curls better, but I guess I’m kinda biased and it does suit you.”

“Kinda biased?” Harry drawls, “Louis, you probably have a shrine dedicated to our curls somewhere. You’re a proper freak about ‘em.”

“Nah,” Louis shrugs, “Just a tad envious.”

And that’s that. Anne, obviously, yells a bit when she comes home, but doesn’t even ground Liam, just tells Harry to at least call her next time. Niall reportedly says it looks ‘sick’ and tries to make Liam dye it blue.

 

The big change that comes with Liam’s new hair isn’t actually that he looks different now. The new thing is how much more tactile Louis gets with him. It starts, naturally, with him reaching to tousle Liam’s curls, a force of habit, only to feel the short, foreign texture of his buzz cut for the first time.

He can’t stop doing it after that, rubbing Liam’s head. And then his neck, too. Occasionally lets his fingers linger a little on Liam’s hands or arms or shoulders. It’s positively addictive, and made easier by the fact that Liam not only hangs out with them a lot more now that he’s single again, he also visibly enjoys all the petting he’s getting, leaning into Louis and so much more open to it than only a couple years ago.

After all, it’s not like Louis didn’t try before. It’s what he does with people, preferring to show affection with gentle nudges and hugs and kisses. Liam used to actively shy away from it, reminding Louis of “the concept of personal space, ever heard of it?” far too often. The one time Louis gave him a playful bite to the neck, just like he loves to do with Harry, Liam literally jumped a foot in the air, blushed violently and stormed out of the room, banging his door shut.

Now he still blushes, but mostly lets Louis do his thing. He also gets incredibly good at catching Louis’ hands to keep him from pinching his nipples.

 

Harry gives him looks sometimes, not really disapproving but almost like he’s waiting for something to happen. But it’s not like Harry has any right to judge Louis for having an overly touchy feely relationship with a kid four years younger while shagging Nick fucking Grimshaw.


	2. Chapter 2

There’s one time where Louis is worried he might have to punch Liam in the face.

 

He's over at Harry's playing FiFa and it’s getting later and later, and Louis has to drive to Uni early the next morning, so he sneaks out of Harry’s house at half past eleven to go back to his and pack and actually get some sleep. 

However, his plans to walk straight home are derailed when he runs into Liam on the porch. Liam, who’s obviously been crying and smells a bit of alcohol.

“Liam, whoa, what happened?” Louis asks, taking him gently by the shoulders and trying to see if someone beat him up or something. There is indeed a red mark on his cheek, but it doesn’t look like a punch, more like maybe a girl slapped him across the face. 

Liam drags his hands through his short cropped hair and makes a pathetic little noise. “I did something terrible,” he says, hiccuping a bit, avoiding Louis’ touches. He looks like he expects Louis to hit him.

Louis swallows. He doesn’t like where this is going, he doesn’t like it one bit. “What did you do?”

After taking a second to breathe deeply, Liam starts talking.

 

“I was at this party, right? Niall’s party. Was a blast. And like, I didn’t even drink much. Two beers, three at the most. And then there was this really cute girl? All small and cute and pixie hair. I like, I talked to her, you know, and it was cool, but when I tried to flirt she didn’t want that, and I didn’t stop, because I thought maybe she, y’know, maybe she’s just playing hard to get, but then she walks away. And I like, I thought, maybe she wants me to follow? So like, I went after her.” 

He pauses. Louis’ fists are clenched and he’s trying to stay calm, but it’s getting hard.

“So,” Liam continues, and he looks like he knows how on edge Louis is, because his voice has gotten even smaller. “So I go after her, and in one hallway she stops and looks at me and like, tells me to leave it. Called me a kid, and, and she said she had to go home? And like, I thought, yeah well, she says that, but really, ‘s just like, a white lie, right? Just a little white lie. She doesn’t really want to go, and she doesn’t really want me to like. Um. Go.”

“Liam,” Louis growls, standing up to his full height and using the inch he still has on Liam to his advantage, “What. Did. You. Do.”

Liam actually jerks back at that, and the tears start falling again. Louis would feel bad for him if he wasn’t so angry.

“I kissed her.”

 

It’s quiet. Louis almost doesn’t catch it, and he asks, “What?” even though he did kind of hear it.

“I kissed her,” Liam repeats, “And then she hit me in the face and walked out.”

All the fight leaves Louis with a whoosh. So does his strength, apparently, because he just kind of drops and sits down on the slightly wet grass. 

“You kissed her,” he echoes, and then a small giggle escapes him, and he has to put his entire mind to the task of not laughing, because it’s still a serious thing, obviously, but. 

 

Liam’s face.

Liam looks like he killed someone.

He looks so fucking guilty, and distressed, and beat up about it; Louis doesn’t know how he ever thought the kid capable of rape.

Well, right now he mostly looks confused.

 

It takes a couple minutes, but eventually Louis pulls himself together. “Okay,” he says slowly, “Okay. So. Why don’t you sit down, Liam.” He pats the grass beside him, and Liam sits without hesitation. He’s still really tense.

So Louis resigns himself to having the consent talk with Liam that he had with Harry ages ago, before his first date, since apparently, that is something Liam is in dire need of.

 

“So. First of all, kissing someone against their will is a dick move, and you shouldn’t do it. Non-consensual kissing is a no-go amongst us civilised lads. If you wanna kiss someone, you make sure they want it, and you can only be sure they want it if…?”

He waits for Liam to fill in, which takes Liam a second to realise. Then he hurries to say, “Uh, if they’re sober and not on drugs and giving you a verbal okay or like, uh, a nod or something like that?”

Louis nods. “Right. Same goes for sex, obviously. A drunk person can’t consent, and a drugged person can’t either, even though they might honestly think they want to in that situation. Be the responsible one and put them to bed or something. 

“It’s different, of course, if you know each other well and are only a bit tipsy. It’s still better to previously assure mutual consent. Like, if you wanna have sex while being properly high, well, go ahead, but talk. Talking is cool. Communication is the key.”

Liam nods. He’s blushing a bit and not looking at Louis, obviously, he’s sixteen.

“Now,” Louis continues, “About what happened today. I think for you his might actually be a good lesson: you do not know what’s going on in a girl’s head, and never, _ever_ make presumptions about it in the context of consent. Ask her. If she says no, assume she means it. The point is, now you know better. There’s no such thing as blurred lines or little white lies when it comes to consent, there’s yes, and there’s no. You made a mistake, but it’s not a terribly bad one. You obviously feel bad about it.”

“I do,” Liam mutters, still looking at the grass. “I was gonna make her cookies.”

Louis blinks. This fucking kid. “Yeah, make her cookies. Get Hazza to help you. But like, be discreet about it. If she doesn’t want to talk to you, accept it and write her a small note and have a girlfriend bring it to her or summat. Yeah?”

Liam nods. “Yeah.”

Then, after a pause, “Thanks.”

Louis just shrugs. “I have four younger sisters,” he says by the way of an explanation.

 

It’s cold outside, and there’s a bit of a breeze, but the two of them sit on the grass for some longer, Liam looking up at the stars and Louis looking at Liam. It’s kind of nice.

Eventually Louis has to get up though. He gives Liam a hug, rubs his head and tells him to enjoy his hangover tomorrow, even though he knows that Liam’s never as hung-over as he should be.

He gets a small smile and a wave as Liam quietly closes the door behind him.

As he walks back slowly to his own house, he thinks about how fond he’s gotten of Liam.

 

Liam seems a bit worried that Louis might not like him anymore after the non-con-kissing incident, so Louis jumps him even more and takes the small touches up to eleven. Liam totally eats it up, starts sitting down with them to watch movies and sneaking into Harry’s room when Louis’ over, just to get more cuddles. 

He’s really cool about it, too. Not overly intrusive, just kind of. There. And it’s not like Louis doesn’t get his fair share of cuddling from Liam, too. 

 

Harry needles him about it whenever Liam isn’t around. Does Louis miss cuddling Harry? Does he feel protective of Liam? Does he have a crush on Liam?

Louis just rolls his eyes and tugs on Harry’s hair. Liam’s cute, and Louis likes cuddling, and Liam gives great cuddles. And he’s nice, and actually kind of funny once you get him to relax a bit.

 

So maybe he does have a tiny bit of something vaguely resembling a crush, but it doesn’t go far, because physically, Liam just really isn’t Louis’ type. Not to mention he’s probably straight. And Louis would have a hard time imagining having sex with Liam, and he usually likes to think of sex with people he crushes on, so he’s not comfortable calling the thing he has for Liam a ‘crush’.

Ha, Louis thinks one night after hours of discussing this with Harry, he would be pretty screwed if he started being physically attracted to Liam.

How convenient that that’ll never happen.

 

He’s watching Brokeback Mountain with Harry the night after Thanksgiving when Liam comes home a bit late. Harry’s just getting a call from Nick and hopping upstairs for a quick talk, Louis shouting obscene things after him, and Liam raises his eyebrow and sits down on the armchair opposite Louis uninvited.

He considers the screen thoughtfully and then faces Louis.

“That turn you on?” he asks, and Louis chokes on his beer.

“I beg your pardon?” Louis returns, leaning forward to study Liam’s face. Liam’s cheeks are barely red, but he looks strangely relaxed.

“Liam James Payne, are you drunk?”

Liam’s nose scrunches up a bit. He shrugs and leans back. “Maybe. Not really. Bit tipsy, night out with Niall. You’re avoiding the question.”

Taking a sip of his beer and looking Liam straight in the eye – _ha, straight_ – Louis shakes his head.

“No.”

The frown on Liam’s face deepens. “Yes, you are avoiding the question.”

“I meant no, it doesn’t turn me on.”

“Why not? You’re gay. They’re going at it. How come that doesn’t do it for you?”

“Oh my God, teenagers,” Louis huffs under a breath. “See, Liam, I don’t know if you’ve seen this movie, or if it’s too ‘homo’ for you, but One, this is a serious scene, Two, it’s not actually about them shagging, that’s just sort of a visual for what’s going on, and Three, does it turn you on to see two people who are absolutely not your type have realistic sex on screen? Didn’t think so.”

“Oh.” Liam blinks. The screen still shows the somewhat blurry still of two blokes having sex, and Louis is starting to wonder where this is going and if _someone_ in this room is maybe having a bit of a sexuality crisis.

“So,” his thoughts are interrupted, “What is your type?”

It’s hard not to laugh at that. “Not them.” Then, after a moment of consideration, “Not Harry or you, either, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, yeah, obviously,” says Liam, and there’s definitely a proper blush on his cheeks now. “I didn’t – yeah.”

“Have you quite finished?” Louis asks, putting his feet on the table and still determinately keeping up eye contact.

Liam shrugs. “One more question?”

“If you must.”

Liam gets up. For a second, Louis thinks he’ll drop it, chicken out and run away, pretend this never happened. 

Instead, he walks over to Louis very deliberately and comes to stand in front of him, hands in his pockets and surprisingly calm. Louis has to actually lean his head back to look up to him, which is. 

It’s.

He is not turned on, but he could be. Maybe if he was drunk, or high, or better, both. And maybe if Liam wasn’t, well, Liam. 

“Yeah?” Louis says, and it doesn’t come out quite as blasé as he would have liked it to.

Liam leans down just a tiny bit, so Louis starts to feel a little trapped, which is silly because Liam isn’t that strong, pretty strong but still a sixteen year old, and he’s not actually taller than Louis.

Is he?

Finally, fucking finally, Liam opens his mouth.

“Are you a top,” he asks, “or a bottom?”

 

That’s the first time that Liam makes Louis blush.

It’s not even the question in itself, really. Louis’ fine with both, though he definitely prefers getting fucked. It’s cool. No big deal.

So it’s not really the question so much as it’s that Liam would ask him such a thing.

Innocent, young Liam.

Who apparently knows some stuff about gay sex.

And who has apparently thought about Louis having sex with guys. It doesn’t mean he liked thinking about it, obviously, but it’s hard to ask someone about their sexual preferences, even if joking, without at least a bit of a mental image accompanying the words.

 

Louis doesn’t answer. He tries to hold Liam’s oddly heated gaze, but has to avert his eyes and then stares at the light coming from the kitchen until he feels Liam’s presence leave his immediate surroundings, and then the stairs creak and shortly after a door falls shut upstairs.

Somehow it feels like there was a game that Louis just lost for the first time, but he has absolutely no clue what it is.

 

They end up ignoring it ever happened. Louis goes back to scratching Liam’s buzz cut and Liam goes back to quietly leaning into Louis’ hand and things are normal.

Except for that one time where he loudly complains to Harry about his last fuck on Skype, already back at college and back to sleeping around instead of dating, until he spots Liam casually standing in Harry’s door behind him, shamelessly listening to the two of them and grinning at Louis with a raised brow.

Louis ends up stuttering an apology to Harry and running off to find Perrie. Perrie is an actual goddess. As Zayn said once, “She’s like. Wow. And if you get to know her, you find out that really, she’s. Wow. And like. Wow. You know?”, which is a pretty accurate description. 

Louis loves her most because she’s ace at calming him down when he starts panicking about stuff. She makes great brownies, and never tells if there’s something fancy in them or if they’re just too good for you to be upset after eating one or two.

So things’ are cool except for that one time Louis freaks out over Liam kind of sort of leering at him and has to wank to the image of Liam’s sort of kind of leer for weeks, but that doesn’t really happen if you ask Louis, so mostly everything’s back to normal. 

 

This is especially great because Louis does not have the time to worry about confusing, confused teenagers right now. His last year of Uni is bloody hell on earth, and he’s gotten the main role in the big musical they’re performing just before summer, which, _yay_ , but also, _fuck_.

His mum and four sisters drive over for the premiere, and Harry, Liam, Anne and Robin tag along. When Niall hears about the spectacle – and the fact that it’s Spring Awakening, which seems to be on his Musical To-Watch-List, he wants to come so badly, Zayn and Perrie pick him up on their way back from their artsy holiday slash pre-wedding-honeymoon. All of his friends and family coming is, again, both amazing and terrible, because it does add a lot of pressure, but he also really needs all of them.

The twins are absolutely adorable, wearing matching dresses, which must have taken a hell lot of convincing from someone, probably Harry. Fizz is really excited when Louis lets her take a look backstage, and Lottie tries to look bored, but it’s easy to tell she’s quite excited as well.

The parents all sit together and Anne has flowers on her lap, Zayn and Perrie look too pretty to be real, Niall radiates happiness that seems to affect the entire row of seats and Liam is wearing a tie, which is pretty sweet and kind of attractive, actually. In a nerdy, cute kind of way.

And Harry. Harry is amazing. Louis would be dead without Harry. He says so, before the performance to him in private, which results in Harry actually lifting him up in his hug, and then after he says it again to the entire crowd, because Harry is fucking amazing and he’s buzzing with energy and he literally wouldn’t be here without Harry.

He may or may not also wink at Liam and blow him a kiss. 

 

Harry stays over for longer than the others, because he’s been taking a year off, spends most of his time working at his little bakery, and he’s off for a couple weeks. Also he’s closer to London, where Nick works at the BBC now, and drives over every couple days. It’s disgusting how happy they still are, after over two years.

Liam skypes Harry, and occasionally Louis, too. It’s fun, and Louis actually sees a bit more of him that way, because Liam and Haz are still really close and apparently have to talk every week. Sometimes Zayn will join in as well, and one time Perrie’s over so the four of them chat with Liam, who’s quite flustered from all the attention and calls over Niall for backup.

It’s great, talking to Liam. Liam is great. Maybe Louis does fancy him a bit.

 

A couple weeks after the musical, Louis gets a call from the BBC. The internship he applied to would totally work out – at BBC America, that is. New York even. It’s sort of amazing; he even gets a really crappy, tiny apartment for the time being.

He barely has time to drive back up to his family and spend a week with them, then he has to say goodbye. He tears up a bit (and acts like he doesn’t) at the prospect of not seeing his family, Harry and Zayn for half a year and even hugs Liam properly, only to find that the fucking kid has finally outgrown him.

Also, Liam’s hug is. Well. Amazing would be the nice word to use. 

Frighteningly comforting would be a different word and much, much more fitting.

 

He doesn’t actually end up not seeing Harry for half a year, because he visits New York for a good week in fall, and Zayn gets a couple of his works into a gallery, so he comes over a bit later, too. 

Louis goes on one date in New York, and at the end of it the guy fucks him and tells him they wouldn’t work out on the long run. 

Louis has a lot of sex in New York and figures it’s better than getting hurt over and over again.

 

Half a month before Louis is supposed to fly back to England, his boss offers him another six months. The pay is good enough for Louis to survive, his mates at the radio station are pretty cool, and when his mum gets really cheap tickets to New York for Christmas, the deal is settled.

The girls love New York, he takes Lottie and Fizz shopping in the strangest, most amazing second hand stores, and Daisy and Phoebe can’t stop gaping at everything.

He actually talks quite a bit to Grimmy, who has somehow managed to get the Breakfast show over in Britain. During late spring, Grimmy manages to convince Louis’ boss to let Louis do some talking on a small show, and the people like it – long story short, Louis might not do acting, but it looks like the world of radio is open to him.

It’s amazing, and he doesn’t actually think much about Liam. Not as much as before anyways. Once or twice a week he hears a song that he thinks Liam might like, or sees a sweater somewhere that might suit him, or wonders what he’s doing. Graduating, his brain supplies him, Liam is eighteen, he’s probably doing his A-levels right now, which should be enough to keep him busy.

He skypes a lot, with his family and Haz and Niall, who’s recording amazing songs that Louis plays late at night. Liam doesn’t skype, maybe because he isn’t interested in his brother’s best friend anymore – which wouldn’t actually be surprising.

 

Except he does write the occasional e-mail. No photos, just some stuff about school and working out a bit, and apparently he gets up early enough to catch Louis’ late night rambling online. He’s developed a sort of dry humour, but mainly he’s still just adorably honest and open and so, so easy to write mails to. Liam is probably the only person Louis always knows what to tell, maybe because he only writes him once a week, maybe because he really does fancy Liam quite a bit.

In the end, New York is amazing, but as the days get warmer, Louis misses England. He misses his tea, his cereal, his family. He misses Harry, who’s practically family anyways, so fucking much. He misses Zayn and Perrie, who are getting married in two years because they are fucking ridiculous. He misses Niall, because Niall is a better drug than weed and makes you all happy and carefree whenever you’re around him, and that with literally no bad side-effects.

He’s surprised to find that he might miss Liam a bit more than he expected.

 

So when the time comes for him to leave, he’s literally bouncing up and down in the airport. He can’t wait to get home.

 

There’s a party for him at Harry’s house, of course there is. Harry says he got Niall to plan most of it, which is why the party is fucking ace and Louis is smashed three hours in.

 

Just after a round of toasts, he jumps off a table and promptly walks into somebody’s back. It’s a very broad, muscly back, and the owner is several inches taller than Louis and very much male. 

It’s probably not gonna be as easy to pull here as it was in New York, where he just had to show off his British accent and fantastic arse, but Louis is willing to give it a try because that is a really, really nice back.

“Heyy, you come here often?” he asks with his best, sleaziest grin, moving a bit more elegantly around Nice Back only to see that it should probably be Nice _Everything_. Jesus. 

It’s embarrassing, really. The guy looks a lot like Beckham, just even hotter, which Louis didn’t think was possible. He is built like a Greek God or something and could probably fuck someone up against a wall.

“Uhm, I’ve never tried, but I reckon it shouldn’t be too hard with someone as small as you,” Nice Everything says and oops, looks like Louis said that last bit out loud.

“Wanna try?” he says, quickly brushing off the surprise and cocking his hips juust right, looking up at Nice Everything through his lashes.

“You’re rather tipsy, aren’t you,” Nice Everything says, and apparently he’s not only a walking wet dream but also really cute, because when he smiles it reminds Louis of someone, he just can’t pinpoint exactly who through his foggy brain.

“Naah,” he shakes his head, leaning into Nice Everything and placing a hand on his absolutely amazing biceps, what even, “Definitely sober enough to know just who I want to fuck me.” 

He knows he’s being forward, but it’s his party, so he figures it’s sort of okay.

It’s definitely okay, because after staring at him for a good minute, in which Louis almost punches someone, Nice Everything nods and takes Louis’ hand. Fucking. Adorable. There’s something fluttering in his chest.

 

Nice Everything starts pulling him through the crowd. “Let’s go somewhere quiet, okay Lou?” he asks, and Louis doesn’t remember giving him either his name or the permission to use a nickname, but finds he doesn’t care. Sounds good, coming from Nice Everything.

Also, Louis hand feels tiny in Nice Everything’s significantly bigger one. It’s wonderful, but for some reason Louis is starting to get less and less horny and more cuddly. Which might get a bit awkward, since there is no way Nice Everything is looking for anything but a quick shag in the loo. Louis doesn’t want to make things weird by trying to kiss and touch and clinging too much.

 

“You must be new here,” Louis asks Nice Everything’s nice back. Nice Everything turns a bit to smile at him sheepishly. 

“Not really, no. Lived here for quite some time.” he replies, and then: “Here, come along. Inside.”

A door shuts, and everything gets quiet. And Louis stops dead in his tracks.

They’re not in a bathroom, is the thing. They’re not even in the guestroom, something that Anne seems to deem necessary.

Louis might be wrong – he’s pretty drunk, despite what he assured Nice Everything – but this looks an awful lot like the room Liam used to stay in. Not that Louis was in it a lot, but it’s hard to miss, because it has a small balcony and the bed still has batman covers. Pretty cool ones, but there’s definitely the yellow logo in the middle of the black sheets.

“I don’t think,” Louis starts, having to pause and gather his thoughts, “I don’t think we should be here, ‘s sort of like, uh, like a private room.”

 

Then someone hugs him.

 

It must be Nice Everything, judging by the arms, and Louis thinks fuck it, whatever, if Liam doesn’t lock his door – he’ll just try to avoid the bed and – 

But Nice Everything doesn’t do anything, just keeps hugging Louis, and it’s so, so fucking nice. 

“You’re drunk off your arse, Lou. As flattered as I am, I don’t think you’d be happy if we had sex now. Let’s just cuddle a bit, yeah?”

Yeah, Louis thinks, nodding sleepily against Nice Everything’s broad chest. That sounds great.

 

Everything’s perfect. Everything is warm. _Warm_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Darlings, I feel the fanservice approaching.   
> Little Darlings, pining's ahead, and yet be warned:   
> Here comes the angst (doo doo doo doo), here comes the angst, and I say: It's alright!

Louis wakes up to the sun touching his cheeks with warm fingers. It’s pretty quiet and the sheets are silky and wonderful against his side. Somewhere outside, there are actual birds chirping.

 

Louis also wakes up in his briefs, held tightly by someone taller and much, much more built than him, whose breath he can feel in little puffs against his neck. For a second he thinks it must be Harry, but he saw Harry last night, and he definitely wasn’t this built.

Also he doesn’t have five chevrons tattooed on his forearm. Looks pretty sick actually. Maybe he should get some.

 

Louis is about to fall asleep in the warm, absurdly comfortable embrace, when he spots a couple photos on the wall across from him, and after he cranes his neck, he can see the small balcony. That’s when he remembers going upstairs and into Liam’s old room with some really fit bloke who turned out to be kind of sweet and then…hugged Louis? 

He hugged Louis. And then he apparently took him to bed. Louis faintly recalls cuddling and getting his head petted from this complete stranger. And then they must have fallen asleep in Liam’s room, which is really awkward considering that Louis has a bit of a crush on the kid, and now he cuddled on his bed with some dude he’s never even seen before this.

He screws his eyes shut for a second, takes a couple of deep breaths and awkwardly turns around in the firm embrace.

 

And, well.

Something weird is going on.

The person does indeed look like Beckham, just like Louis thought last night.

He just happens to have Liam’s mouth and eyebrows and cheekbones and it’s like someone hacked Louis’ brain to create his ideal mating partner, including a bit of scruff along his jaw and pink lips and Jesus Christ, _what is happening_?

 

Louis must have moved too much, or maybe thought too obscene things too loudly, because the painfully attractive Beckham-Payne-Mix blearily opens his eyes and then smiles, and Louis thinks fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ because he’d recognize that smile anywhere.

 

“Hi?” he croaks, staring at what appears to have happened to Liam in the past year. It’s fucking surreal.

“Morning, Lou,” Liam smiles at him, “Just to warn you, you’re gonna have a really bad hangover today.”

 

Louis would punch him, but that might end with him awkwardly groping Liam’s face, and nobody needs that.

 

The following breakfast is the most awkward Morning After Louis has ever had. Zayn’s half asleep on the kitchen table. Niall is just kissing a girl that could easily pass as a Victoria’s Secret model goodbye when Liam and Louis come downstairs, and wolf whistles at them, until Liam shakes his head with a bit of a blush. 

Fortunately, Harry’s already up and making a proper English. Louis slinks over to him and hugs him, using it as an excuse to hide his face in Harry’s back so as not to look at Liam.

Who might be wearing a shirt, but it’s so tight, he could as well just take it off.

“You’re the worst,” Louis hisses, poking Harry’s side viciously, “We talked like, every day and you never once mentioned your baby brother mutated into – into that?” Harry just chuckles and twists an arm to awkwardly pat Louis’ head, shoving Louis’ favourite smiley faced mug filled with steaming coffee at him.

 

The entire time they’re eating, Louis glares at Liam, who gets twitchier every minute. Finally, Louis takes pity on him. 

“So,” he asks, munching on his delicious eggs, “How come you didn’t fuck me?”

Liam is apparently secretly not human, because while he does choke and turn a beautiful shade of red, he somehow manages to keep his orange juice in his mouth. After struggling for a couple delightful moments, he swallows and haughtily looks up at Louis.

“Someone once told me that drunk people can’t consent, and I should be the better person and put them to bed. That’s what I did.”

It’s completely ridiculous, because Louis was in no way too drunk to consent to, well, slightly drunk shagging, and he’s about to say so, when Liam continues.

“And like, considering you asked me it was pretty obvious just how smashed you were.”

Neither Niall nor Harry manage to keep their food in their mouth, and Zayn is just lucky because he’s already done eating. Louis wants to punch them all so, so badly, because he just noticed how amazing of an excuse that actually is.

See, he’s not attracted to Liam at all. No, he was just drunk. Happens to the best of them.

“That’s actually very sweet of you, Liam. Thanks, you’re a babe,” Louis says with an only slightly forced smile, ignoring the three idiots next to him as good as he can. Liam looks like he’s not sure if he wants in on the joke.

“No need to thank me, and you should know you can always trust me,” he tells his pancakes, making Louis’ smile 100% more genuine. 

“Yes,” he answers gently, “Yes, I do.”

Harry coos. It earns him a sharp elbow in his ribs.

 

Later, after breakfast is finished, Liam gets up and says he’s going to take a shower. He then proceeds to wrestle out of his shirt and Louis takes it all back, he might not as well have been half naked before, this is much worse, and also Liam’s ridiculous torso should be covered by at least three layers at all times.

 

In the afternoon, Nick calls Harry, and then demands to talk to Louis. He offers him a small job at the BBC with great possibilities in the future if he does well.

Louis wants to say yes, he really does, but it means living in London, and he’s not sure he can afford that.

Just when he’s about to decline, Zayn clears his throat. Louis turns around to see the entire group shamelessly listening in, Liam for some reason giving Zayn a really panicked look and Niall staring at Liam intensely.

“Y’know,” Zayn says, “You could live at Liam’s apartment. He needs a flatmate, don’t you, Li?”

Liam nods hesitantly. “I’ve just started training to become a fire fighter,” he explains, “and I got a pretty cheap flat, but I’ve got a spare room and it would ease the strain on my wallet a bit.”

Louis can’t help but notice how nervous he looks. “I…wouldn’t wanna impose?”

“No, no,” Liam visibly straightens with a nudge from Niall, “You really wouldn’t. I think it sounds like fun, if you’re okay living with a teenager?”

“You’re nineteen. I think I can handle that.”

“Awesome!” Niall intercepts, bouncing up and down, “This is gon’ be awesome, mate, you just wait for it! Liam’s a great flatmate!” 

Liam laughs and scratches his neck. “I'll do my best, I suppose.”

 

It does turn out to be pretty awesome, because not only does Louis get a great job, he also gets to live in London. With all of his friends.

Niall lives in the same building, but two floors down. Harry’s moved into Nick’s terribly pretentious hipster apartment only twenty minutes walking distance, and Zayn and Perrie live a bit further away, but right next to the tube, so that works out. 

 

It really, really is amazing – except the ‘living with Liam’-part. That turns out to be the biggest challenge of Louis’ life up to now.

 

It’s not that he’s relatively neat, compared to Louis. It’s not his two dozen different shampoos, conditioners, shower gels and other various body hygiene products. It’s not even his insistence on eating vegetables every now and then, or him getting up terribly early for his morning run – after all, Louis has to be at the studio at eight himself, so he can’t exactly sleep in either way.

No, it’s that Liam turns out to be the worst cock tease in existence.

He works out. A lot. Shirtless. 

He will regularly walk out of the shower in only a tiny towel, despite Louis telling him not to.

He sings to himself sometimes, but it’s not Taylor Swift or maybe children’s nursery rhymes like Louis might have expected, no, it’s Candy Shop and Talk Dirty and Sweat and Rude Boy and songs Louis doesn’t even know the name of, but fuck, they’re dirty, and what’s worse, Liam actually has a great voice.

Liam is also really noisy in other situations. And a teenager. Louis hasn’t had to wank this much since high school, but the noises Liam makes next door are completely obscene.

It’s maddening.

 

Zayn and Niall are over one afternoon for FIFA, even though Zayn sucks at it and mostly watches.

It looks like it’s raining outside, because when Zayn arrives, his shirt is soaked. Niall hugs him just as he’s walking through the door, whispers something in his ear Louis doesn’t quite catch, and Zayn chuckles.

“Liam,” he asks, “Can you lend me a shirt? ‘M drenched, and I don’t wanna catch a cold.”

Liam nods happily, like a little puppy, always glad to help, and shortly after Zayn sprawls out over the sofa in a far too big plaid flannel. Obviously he still looks like a model.

 

After Niall wins for the fifth time, Louis accuses him of cheating once more and stalks over to the kitchen with a pout to get a beer. Just as he’s about to come back in, there’s a shout, and Liam’s voice, “Niall! What was that for!”

Louis enters the living room to see Liam dabbing at his own shirt, which is drenched in guacamole. “Oops, sorry, Li,” Niall grins, and Louis’ heart sinks.

“Well, that’s okay,” he says, desperate to sound completely calm, “I’m sure Liam has more than two t-shirts.”

Liam sighs and shakes his head. “Not right now. I’m doing laundry, and I only had three shirts to wear for now.”

“Okay, but if you’re wearing one, and Zayn’s wearing one, where’s the third one?” Louis frowns.

Liam just wordlessly points at Louis.

Louis looks down on himself and oh, yeah. That’s. There’s a reason why that shirt goes down to mid-thigh. Not that he took it on purpose. Or sleeps in it knowing full well it’s Liam’s. That would be creepy. 

(Louis may or may not be in denial about one of his coping mechanisms being ‘if you can’t have him, take his clothes’.)

 

“Well,” Niall says cheerfully, “Looks like you’ll just have to be shirtless for now.”

The grin he sends Louis is really fucking dirty.

“I guess,” Liam shrugs, taking the shirt off and throwing it in the general vicinity of his room. “But hey, what else do I work out for, right?”

And he laughs, completely earnestly and sweet as always. Arsehole.

“Yeah, bro,” Zayn says between bursts of supressed laughter, “You look great.” He reaches out to grope Liam’s broad shoulders and massive arms. Liam preens. “Feels great, too,” Zayn continues, and then, smiling at Louis dangerously, “Hey, Lou, c’mere, feel it!”

Louis is going to kill him slowly and cruelly. Niall too, because he’s now literally rolling around on the floor, Liam still painfully oblivious.

Louis shuffles over and hesitantly lays one hand on Liam’s upper arm. It’s warm under his palm, and it does feel amazing when Liam obligingly flexes his biceps for him. 

 

In fact, it feels so amazing that Louis’ blood starts to flow where it shouldn’t and he has to awkwardly excuse himself to the toilet after having to endure a full five minutes of Niall and Zayn making him touch Liam’s chest and neck and back and arms all over.

Louis wants to cry.

 

Now, remember when, on Liam’s fifteenth birthday, Zayn made that really inappropriate comment about Liam who, at the time, had been very much jailbait and very much not Louis’ type?

Louis doesn’t, at first, because mostly he remembers the hair part of that comment. Until Zayn, Liam and him are at a bar one night. 

 

There’s straws, and very pink cocktails, and when Liam is about halfway through his drink, Louis is half hard in his black skinny jeans. Even though Louis is brilliant at having a very normal, lad-y, no homo conversation with Liam about footie and Pacific Rim, Zayn notices, because Zayn is King of Noticing Awkward Boners. Usually he’s also really nice about it though, might give you a wink and a nudge. 

Now, Zayn isn’t nice at all.

“Hey, Lou,” he says with a shit eating grin, “D’you remember, on Liam’s birthday where he got like, his curls back? Remember what I said?”

After only a few second, Louis gets it, and glares at him. “Why yes, Zayn, I do, thank you very much. Just what I needed to think of right now.”

Liam makes a questioning noise from where he’s busy fellating his straw. Zayn’s smirk grows even wider. “Oh, just, you know how Louis has the biggest hair fetish like, ever?”

“Lies and slander,” Louis mutters, not even listening, because there’s _no way_ Zayn would actually…

“So like, when you got those curls back, I was like hey, Lou, think about getting your hands in that, yeah?” He’s waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Liam. Louis shoots him a warning glance. “Zayn,” he says, “I don’t think Liam wants to know about our dirty old man fantasies.”

“No, no,” Liam protests, giggling a bit, he’s a very giggly drunk and a total light weight, “I wanna know, tell me Zaynie!”

“Right, so ‘m like, think about how nicely you could drag him around by his hair, yeah? Get him where you want him?”

Liam just looks mildly confused, so Zayn makes a quite rude and very obvious gesture, and when Liam still doesn’t get it, Zayn grabs Louis’ hair with a sigh and demonstrates what he was talking about.

Liam makes a little, “Oh,” noise, and his cheeks get pink and his eyes hazy as he stares at Louis and Zayn for a bit too long. Despite technically being the butt of Zayn’s joke, Louis starts cackling. “Like what you see?” he asks Liam, starting to obnoxiously lick Zayn’s neck and groping his thighs a bit. 

A tiny frown appears on Liam’s face. “Louis, no, stop. We’re in public. It’s a nice image, is all.”

Louis has to agree, with the nice image part anyways, because Zayn and him actually used that a lot to pull in their first year of college. He doesn’t agree with Liam’s nothing naughty in public rule, but he stops anyway, because he’s a jealous, pining idiot and doesn’t want Liam to look at Zayn that way.

 

Summer is almost over when there’s one last day of sunshine and heat. The five boys drive over to the nearest lake and spread out enough to have the small beach almost to themselves. There’s sandwiches and beer and lots of snacks, courtesy of Niall and Harry mostly, and Louis curls up on a sunspot and quickly falls asleep.

 

His nap is rudely disrupted by a wet Liam dripping on his face. 

“You should join us in the water!” he says excitedly, gesturing behind him where Niall and Harry are in what looks like a brutal fight to the death with water guns.

“Zayn’s not in the water,” Louis protests sleepily, stretching his legs and rolling around on the soft blanket a bit. “I don’t see why I’m not allowed to stay dry. You kids just go and have fun and let the adults sleep in peace, yeah?”

“Rest in peace, more like,” Niall snorts from where he’s coming up, shaking his hair out of his eyes and getting Louis even wetter. “You two are practically dead already. You gotta live before you get older and actually die.”

Harry sneaks up on Louis other side and holds his soaked curls carefully over Louis’ belly. “I think he’s scared,” he grins, “I think Louis is too old to win in a proper fight.”

“Oh, Harold” Louis says, voice dangerously low, “Now it’s on,” and he jumps up and grabs Harry’s water gun and sets out to bloody murder all of them for disturbing his nap time.

 

Eventually it’s down to him and Liam, which obviously isn’t a fair fight, because Liam is half naked and there’s water running down his shoulders and abs and his swim shorts are sitting way, way too low on his hips, if Louis squints he can actually see his happy trail – 

Long story short, when it’s just the two of them, Louis is helplessly outmatched due to being embarrassingly distracted. Zayn’s apparently woken up for the sole purpose of mocking Louis for it and laughing so hard he seems to have trouble breathing.

 

Another advantage Liam has is his height. He’s several inches taller than Louis, and uses it to herd him deeper into the water and then grin when Louis suddenly loses the ground beneath his feet and has to tread water to keep himself above the surface.

Louis lets out an angry growl and tosses his water gun to the side, dives under and attacks. It’s a brilliant plan, really, pulling Liam under and tickling him. It’s all Liam’s fault that it doesn’t work out, because Louis is still not used to how massive Liam’s gotten, and ends up having to come up for air with Liam still standing strong.

Liam, because he is a complete idiot, beams like a puppy and drops his water gun as well to pick Louis up and carry him out of the water like a fucking trophy. “Look what I caught!” he laughs, and Louis is too enamoured with him to put up much of a fight.

 

Every now and then, Louis wonders if Liam even knows that gyms exist, because the kid seems to do all of his working out at home. In the living room, always between six thirty and seven thirty in the morning. Which would be less weird if Liam didn’t know exactly that this is when Louis gets up and is therefore in the kitchen adjacent living room as well. The only nice part about that is that Louis always steals Liam’s milk/protein shakes, until Liam got used to making two.

 

The thing is though, Louis gets really good at seeming unaffected. 

 

He’s sitting at the kitchen aisle one morning, sipping on his banana-cinnamon shake, and watching the muscles in Liam’s back work as he’s doing one sit up after another, when Louis thinks, yeah, he can live with this. He can do this.

He’s really enjoying the view, thinking about dragging his nails over Liam’s shoulder blades and hooking his legs around his waist, all while looking slightly bored and mostly tired and not at all turned on. It’s brilliant.

 

Of course, that’s when it stops.

He doesn’t notice immediately, of course.

That morning, the only thing that seems a bit off is Liam giving him a long, thoughtful look, and then biting his lip and turning around with a small sigh, going to shower. Looking back, he does seem somewhat defeated.

He comes out of the bathroom fully dressed for once.

 

And the next morning, he’s wearing a light sweater during his workout. A week later, he proudly announces that he (finally) found a gym, so after that he doesn’t work out at home at all anymore.

It’s like day after day, the nudity and lewd comments or lyrics and the small, flirtatious movements all stop. 

 

It’s a gradual thing, and even after catching on to what’s happening, Louis can’t exactly do anything about it. He can hardly go up to Liam and be all, Hey, wassup, how come you never flaunt your abs anymore and Yo, I’ve meant to tell you, I kinda liked that sexy Liam, can he visit from time to time?

 

Naturally, because it’s Liam and the boy exists solely to make Louis’ life hell, the not-flirting is soon replaced by something much, much worse:

Liam goes back to being a ridiculously attentive, devoted and cuddly friend.

 

This is a catastrophe for several reasons.

For one, it includes lots of touching. This does not help with Louis trying to not be physically attracted to Liam. It’s one thing to see Liam’s gorgeous body and have wet dreams about touching and licking and rubbing up against it. It’s an entire new world of terror to be held, no, pressed against it for long periods of time.

Which sounds a lot dirtier than it is. Liam just really likes to hug people. Especially Louis apparently, maybe because he’s so small and can never refuse Liam’s puppy eyes. He’ll also snuggle up to Louis when they watch telly, lay one arm around his shoulders and let Louis drool on him when he falls asleep. 

Then there’s the handholding, which tickles Louis’ size kink like nothing else, and the light kisses on Louis’ cheek, and he cooks for Louis, makes him his favourite Yorkshire tea, remembers important dates and buys twice as much of his shampoo after discovering that Louis always uses it.

It’s all very sweet, and entirely platonic, obviously, but it makes everything so much harder.

 

Here’s how it is: Louis can do lusting.

 

Louis has somehow always been surrounded by ridiculously attractive people. Over the years he has mastered the art of drooling over someone in a way that neither disturbs them nor negatively affect Louis. He’ll sigh a bit and then get off to their image later. No big deal.

And while Liam is a bit worse and took some getting used to, in the end he’s just another nice body with a brilliant face. 

It’s what Liam’s doing now that makes Louis go absolutely insane.

This whole, this friendship thing, being nice and loving and taking care of Louis. Louis has a weakness for being taken care of, because he spent most of his youth having to take care of people himself, like his sisters and his mum, like Harry and even Liam. That’s why he got along so well with Zayn, because they took care of each other.

 

And Louis still takes care of a lot of people, as immature and childish as he likes to act, it’s still there.

Only now Liam with his sweet smile and boundless acceptance and affection is taking care of Louis and he can’t, he can’t deal with that.

Liam’s not even glorifying him like he used to. Louis’ not blind, he knows Liam used to think he hung the moon or something at first. No, now, Liam knows all of Louis flaws, knows how whiny and needy and clingy he is, knows that he can’t work in the morning without his tea, knows that Louis is really messy and can’t cook for shit and needs people to pay attention to him.

Liam knows all this, and he’s okay with it. He works his way around it. He doesn’t put up with all of his shit, like Harry does, and doesn’t scold him too much, like his ex-boyfriends would always do.

He makes him his tea, forces him to properly put his stuff away every Friday night, teaches him home made mac’ n’ cheese and listens to him when Louis needs to talk.

 

And Louis is falling so, so hard for him.

 

Because here’s how it is: Louis can deal with lusting. He just really, really can’t deal with pining.

 

Apparently he’s obvious enough that even Grimmy catches on eventually, and Grimmy is known to be allergic to feelings. Louis has no idea how Harry got him to admit his feelings, but he suspects it was something so cheesy any normal person would have puked.

Anyways, he’s sitting about in the small kitchen, waiting for the coffee to finish and being miserable about his stupid, unrequited crush when Nick comes in and awkwardly leans against the counter. 

“So, you’ve been even more grumpy than usually,” he starts, and Louis just groans and bashes his head against the fridge. 

“Fucking….not you, too, Grimshaw,” he whines, “Did Haz set you up or something?”

“Actually, you’re obnoxious enough about it that even I noticed,” Nick says drily. “It’s that Liam kid, innit.”

Louis makes something that closely resembles dying whale noises. “Do you know what the worst part is? Literally _everyone_ but Liam knows, and it’s gotten so bad they don’t even find it funny anymore. Last time we had a movie night, he made me sit on his lap and not even Zayn laughed about it!”

“I know, I was right next to you. You two are a sickeningly adorable couple, if you ignore the part where you’re not actually together.”

“Not helping, Grimshaw. Not helping at all.”

 

In late September, Liam starts coming home later and later, with lots of homework. Louis wasn’t aware that you could learn this much theoretical stuff about pulling people out of burning buildings, and he does his best to keep Liam from studying himself to death. 

Whenever Liam looks like he’s about to fall asleep on his books, Louis makes him take a break and they watch some Homeland with tea and greasy takeout. He even tries to help him study, asking him test questions from the book and digging up his own learning methods from four years ago.

 

He also takes him out to parties every weekend. Liam’s a bit shy at first, but eventually learns how to relax and after a couple beers, Louis can convince him to dance.

Sober, Liam is a terrible dancer, all awkward shuffling around and nodding half-heartedly to the beat. 

Tipsy, he’s an amazing dancer, starts to come out of his shell and actually moves around, brilliant at synchronising with his dance partner and comfortable with his body.

The real fun starts when he’s properly drunk. Then, Liam is a dirty dancer. Grinds up against Louis, lets his hands roam and grope, takes off his shirt and occasionally bites Louis’ neck. He also doesn’t remember the next morning, or at least he doesn’t act weird about it, which makes it easy for Louis to give in to the flirtations.

 

A month later, just after writing some kind of exam, Liam comes down with a terrible cold, including fever and all that.

Louis panics and calls over Perrie, who did a year abroad at a clinic. Perrie just laughs at Louis’ face and writes him a list of “shit you can do yourself, what, do you think I’m gonna nurse your boyfriend back to health?”

“Still not my boyfriend!” Louis calls after her, even though the door’s already closed. 

Then he sighs and starts making the soup Perrie bought on her way over, since he just has to pour it into a pot and heat it. He knows how to do that. Liam showed him.

 

For the next couple days he goes home early, ignoring Grimmy’s smirk, and plays nurse. He puts on movies, makes soup, regulates Liam’s temperature as good as he can and reads him Harry Potter because Liam is an actual six year old when sick.

By the end of the weak, Liam is doing much better and Louis is through four books and really fucking hoarse. It’s worth it though, totally worth it.

 

It’s a week to Christmas, and they really are a domestic couple. Without the sex, obviously. But Louis hasn’t had a shag in ages – maybe since he moved in with Liam, he doesn’t want to think about it too hard – and he’s pretty certain that Liam doesn’t sleep around much either. So they are kind of exclusive.

 

Anyways, like the actual husbands they are, they’re spending the Saturday evening watching reruns of Doctor Who, when Liam shifts for the ninth time and Louis turns in his arms to look up at him.

“You okay?” he asks, “Am I getting too heavy for you?”

Because yes, obviously he’s sitting on Liam’s lap. Liam says he’s warm and not all that heavy, like a comforter. Louis doesn’t say anything, because he has stopped questioning Liam’s need for physical contact entirely and just enjoys it with a nasty sting in his heart.

“My back’s killing me after today’s workout,” Liam confesses. “Sorry, I’ll try to stop moving.”

“Liam! Babe, why didn’t you say so earlier! Let me get up, I’ll give you a back rub.”

Louis starts moving, and Liam only lets him go hesitantly. “I didn’t want to like. Er. You looked really comfortable?” he mumbles.

“I was, Liam, very much so, you know that, but you also know that you’ll spend the entirety of tomorrow whining about your back if I don’t do something now, so _shush_.”

Liam pouts, but gets up. Louis is confused for a second, but Liam walks toward his room and looks at Louis expectantly. “You coming? Bed’s much more comfortable.”

No homo, Louis desperately tells at himself. No homo. Just a bro thing. Giving each other back rubs in bed. No homo at all. Very bro.

 

It’s very homo, actually. Louis has to sit on Liam’s bum. It’s a very nice bum, but Louis tries very hard not to think about it. 

He’s done this before, he thinks, he’s touched Liam’s naked back before. No big deal. 

No homo.

Ha. Louis’ fucking life, man.

 

So he sits on Liam’s bum and digs his palms into the broad expanse of tan skin before him, puts his weight into it, which, admittedly, is easier this way than when Liam’s sitting in front of him. See, totally practical, all of this. Nothing homoerotic about it, just two mates helping each other out.

And what’s worse, Louis knows that no matter how much this screams ‘prelude to gay porn’, it’s not gonna happen. If only his dick would get those news, too.

It seems like a great idea to just. Stop thinking. 

 

He only sees the flaws in the whole doing this on a bed thing when it’s too late.

Because he usually does Liam’s chest and stomach, too. Which is fine when they do it sitting down, because Louis just leans in a bit and doesn’t even have to move around Liam or like, face him.

He can’t exactly do that as long as Liam’s front is pressed against the sheets.

“Um,” he says.

Obviously, Liam has come to the same conclusion, that this isn’t gonna work because he. Well.

“Gimme some space to turn,” Liam mumbles into his pillows, and when Louis listens blindly, he turns around and _No_ , Louis thinks. _Please_. 

His wishes are not granted.

 

And well, isn’t this all Louis’ ever dreamt of. He’s sitting on Liam’s dick, Liam expecting him to start touching. Yay. Wonderful.

If there was any mercy in this world, someone would come in right now and murder Louis.

But after a minute, in which the silence between them gets increasingly awkward, Louis is still very much alive, his blood pumping happily through his veins and steadily south.

So he takes a deep breath and shifts his weight a bit, leans forward and starts working on Liam’s splendid pectoral muscles. 

Again, his fucking life. For real.

 

He’s so concentrated on his work, he doesn’t notice what’s going on with Liam at first. It’s only when he shifts back a few inches that he feels something against his arse that he instinctively rubs against because he’s just that fucking pathetic and horny, and Liam makes that noise, that Louis bothers to look up.

Liam’s flushed all over. He’s panting a bit, his brows furrowed and temples glistening with sweat. His hands are fisted at his side.

Guilt bleeds into his eyes as soon as he sees Louis noticing him. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking up at the ceiling and taking a shaky breath.

Louis has seen a lot of really steamy porn, but this is by far the hottest thing he’s ever encountered, and suddenly he just loses it.

“Fucking…” he starts, letting out a high whine and slowly dropping forward until his forehead is resting against Liam’s chest. His cheeks are burning up and his hard dick is pressing into Liam’s belly. “I can’t do this anymore,” he whispers, “I fucking – I _can’t_.” Angry tears start threaten to swell in his eyes because he did so, so well, he did fabulous, and now one hoarse ‘Sorry’ from Liam simply breaks him into tiny pieces of want and need and can’t have.

There’s a big, gentle hand slowly petting the nape of his neck, curling around the back of his neck and sliding down to lift his chin with three fingers.

“Lou,” Liam says, low and rough and full of desperation.

It’s dirty, too. Lewd and wanton.

There’s something else, but Louis doesn’t know what. Probably more guilt. Anger. Disgust. Repulsion at both Louis and himself, probably.

 

And Louis makes one last effort to save both Liam himself, hoping that maybe they might escape this at least partially unscathed.

“Well,” he forces out, sitting up and averting his eyes. “What’s a shag between mates.”

Liam’s eyes darken. Not really the sexy way though, as Louis notes, a sharp pain spreading in his chest.

 

Sex with Liam that night is slow and quiet. It’s hitched breaths and suppressed curses. It’s hands that are unsure of how much they are allowed to touch. It’s Louis wanting so bad to be good for Liam, and it’s Liam watching Louis slowly fall apart.

They don’t talk. They don’t kiss. Louis heart breaks when he comes, and again when Liam’s eyes shut and a low noise escapes his throat.

 

When they’re done, neither of them has even properly taken off their sweats. Louis’ still in one of Liam’s worn out shirts.

 

The shrill ringtone of Liam’s phone disrupts the heavy silence between them. Liam barely hesitates to accept the call.

“Oh, wow, Dani. Hey. Haven’t heard of you in a while.”

Silence.

“Ah! That’s, uh, fantastic.”

Silence. Louis stares at the ceiling.

“Wow. Er, yeah, I do. Same building, even.”

Liam moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

“What? Oh, wait a sec. No, I don’t think I do. Where?”

Silence. Louis’ eyes sting, and he breathes steadily.

“Yes! It’s pretty good.”

Cradling his phone between shoulder and neck, Liam pulls up his sweats. He gives Louis a quick look.

“Uhm. I guess. How quick? Oh. No, absolutely. I wouldn’t want you to- yeah. Um. Yeah. Lovely. See you in a minute, I guess.”

He hangs up, and it’s quiet once more. Liam’s bed sheets are a really obnoxious bright blue.

 

“Dani?” Louis eventually breaks the silence. Liam nods.

“Yeah, uh, Danielle. I think you met her once or twice? She apparently just ran into Niall at the bakery down the street.”

“She’s coming over then?”

“Yes, actually. Since she’s around. Wants to grab dinner, catch up and stuff.” There’s something oddly calculating in Liam’s look when he says that, like he’s waiting for Louis to react in a certain way.

Louis shrugs. “Cool.”

With a defeated sigh, Liam looks down on his phone again. “Right,” he says, “You should probably put some clothes on, since she’ll be here like, really soon.”

 

That’s when Louis gets it, and he feels stupid for not realising earlier. “Right,” he answers, teeth clenched and hating how everything gets blurry and his eyes are too hot with tears. “Right.”

 

And he storms out of Liam’s room, downstairs and into the hallway. He can hear faint noises behind him, wonders if Liam’s gonna come after him or something. Maybe make everything worse by saying how this was a mistake and they should ignore it ever happened, or worse, apologise.

Louis strips out of his shirt, because it’s sweaty and there’s cum on it and it stinks like Liam and sex. He grabs his wallet and keys from the kitchen table and a hoodie and rips open the door.

Danielle’s hand is raised to knock, her eyes widen at the sight of Louis and then even more when she looks over Louis’ shoulder where Liam must be standing on the stairs.

Louis knows he’s red and has bruises everywhere and his hair’s a mess, and Liam looks just about the same. He’s already ruined their friendship, he can’t ruin this for Liam as well.

 

“We didn’t have sex,” he blurts out, a bit too loud. “We didn’t have sex, obviously, because Liam isn’t gay.”

There’s a small pause in which Danielle stares at him, soft brown hair framing her soft face and her soft eyes. Liam and her, they’ll make a pretty couple.

“I know how this looks, but we really didn’t shag” Louis says again, calmer this time. He can do this. “After all, he’s into girls and I’m, uh, not a girl.”

She nods, very slowly, but still pretty confused, and she still won’t say anything.

Louis breathes out, can feel Liam’s stare burn into his neck. “I hope you guys have a lovely date,” he finishes, and then pushes past her and into the elevator, which fortunately shuts very fast and takes him away from the mess he’s made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such dramatic. Very angst. Much cliffhanger. Comments? ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Harry tells us a fairy tale, Louis mopes around the house, Liam is a sap and it all comes to an end.

Once he’s outside, Louis zips up his hoodie over his bare chest, shoots Harry a text with a warning and then shuts off his phone and starts walking.

He makes it to Nick’s and Harry’s flat in less than fifteen minutes, running half of the time. Harry’s hugging him before he even gets inside, and drags him to their big couch. They snuggle up and Nick brings over a blanket and sits on his other side, so that Louis’ surrounded by two giant heaters cuddling him through his four separate crying fits.

 

He falls asleep on the couch after half a litre of tea and a fifth attempt at crying that ends up being nothing more than a bit of sniffling and pain, so, so much pain.

 

The first thing he says when he wakes up is “I can never see him again,” and it seems like he can still cry a bit after all.

“Rubbish,” Harry says consolingly, “You’ll get over it. It’ll take some time, but whatever it is you did – it’s Liam. He’ll get over it.”

Only then Louis notices that he still hasn’t told Harry what happened, and he gives him a quick break down. He somehow coerced Liam into awkward, no-feeling sex with a completely misplaced ‘no homo’ killing any attempt at tenderness from the start, only to possibly keep him from getting back together with his childhood flame, because apparently Liam never came out to her.

“Or maybe he’s not even gay or bi or something in between,” Louis grumbles, “I have no idea, maybe it was just an accident, heat of the moment and all that.”

He looks up to see Harry and Nick both frowning at him excessively.

Nick’s the first one to talk. “You know, I don’t even know Liam all that well, but whatever happened, that’s not it.”

Harry nods. “Also,” he adds, “Liam is very comfortably bi.”

 

When they come back from taking out Puppy, Nick sees the hoodie Louis threw on a random chair in the hallway. “Hey,” he asks, completely incapable of shutting his damn mouth for once, “Isn’t that Liam’s?”

Harry groans and Louis angrily wipes at the tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

But mostly they leave Louis alone, so he can wallow in self-hatred and anger and guilt.

 

The next morning, Louis still hasn’t either gone home or switched on his phone. He creeps into the kitchen in one of Harry’s disgusting knitted jumpers and downs two cups of tea.

“So,” Nick chirps from the counter he’s leaning against, making Louis jump a bit because he didn’t notice him at all, “There’s good news, and there’s bad news.”

Louis waits. Harry watches him nervously from where he’s sat on the counter next to Nick.

“Bad news first,” Louis says hoarsely.

Nick pulls out his tablet from behind him. “Her full name’s Danielle Peazer, right?”

Louis nods, impatient and moody. He might punch Grimmy if he keeps stalling.

“Well. The bad news is, Danielle Peazer’s facebook status says that she is in a stable relationship at the moment.”

Louis clenches his fists and nods. “That was fast,” he mutters into his third cup of tea. He misses his happy, smiling cup, but that one’s back at Harry’s mum’s place.

“The good news,” Nick continues, “Is that they’re not married yet.”

Louis jerks back and stares at him angrily.

“Nick!” Harry scolds, “Now is not the time to be an arse, okay?” Then, to Louis, he says much more gently: “She’s not in a relationship with Liam, that’s what the good news is.”

He beams at Louis, who doesn’t understand how that’s something good.

“Great,” he says, “So she likes him enough to cheat on her boyfriend.”

Harry groans exasperatedly. Louis hates the effect Nick’s having on his baby boy.

“No, you dickhead, stop trying so hard to be miserable. They’re not dating, at all!”

Blinking, Louis puts down his cup. “Okay. How do you know that?”

“You do remember why they broke up, right?” Harry asks back, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t, actually.”

 

There’s a long silence in which both Nick and Harry stare at him a lot, all judging and a bit sad and kind of pitying. It makes Louis super twitchy, but he won’t cave and ask them what’s wrong with him not knowing why Liam, who he wasn’t even really friends with back then, broke up with someone ages ago. He never really had the chance to get this close to Liam until now, so Liam wouldn’t exactly have told him then, would he.

 

“Lou,” Harry whines eventually, and then he turns to Grimmy.

“Nick,” he says, very seriously. “I think you should go take Puppy for a walk.”

“Why do you want me out of the house?” Nick asks. “I want to see Louis realise what a twat he’s been.”

Louis doesn’t even have time to defend his honour, because Harry just takes Nick by his hand and patiently leads him toward the door. “The problem is that you are practically incapable of talking about feelings, and your emotional constipation is contagious, it will poison the atmosphere and I just got Louis to the point where he can have this talk with me without eventually running off to sulk in a corner.”

Louis feels like he should be very insulted, but then again, Nick’s getting his fair share too, so it’s sort of alright.

“Now,” Harry keeps going, “Be a dear and go take Puppy for a walk. I’ll blow you later, yeah?”

His argument is pretty good. The part where Harry supposedly gives fantastic head, not the part about Nick. Nick seems to agree, because he sighs and gives Harry a peck, calls Puppy and is gone within a minute.

 

“Now.”

Harry sits down opposite Louis and puts his chin on his hands. “Where to start, where to start.”

“I don’t think I want to hear this,” Louis protests weakly.

“Oh yes, you do,” Harry interrupts. And then he tells Louis a story about Liam.

 

“It’s a pretty long story. We’re gonna have to go back in time like, a lot. It all starts on a playground, twelve years ago. I know it’s twelve years, because I was nine, and it was around Christmas, too. Aunt Billie wasn’t there yet, and she always comes two weeks before Christmas, right, so technically it’s a bit more than twelve years.

“Anyways, twelve years ago, nine year old Me is crying on a playground, because Liam told mum what I was going to give her for Christmas, even though it was a surprise. It was a hanger I painted in the colours of the rainbow, by the way. You’ve seen it; it’s still in her closet. She loves it, despite the surprise having been ruined by Liam.

“Right, so. I’m crying, and Liam’s crying too, because he can’t not cry when other people cry. And that’s when we made the Rule. The Rule is that you can’t tell people your brother’s secrets, no matter how much you think you might be doing good. The Rule is sort of like the Bro code, except we’re actually brothers and not just best friends. Well, half-brothers, but who cares. Which would make your relationship with Liam a bit incestuous, but hey, every metaphor has its limits.

“Anyways, what I meant to say is the rule is important, okay. You do not break it. _Ever_.

“As you can probably guess, I am about to break this rule. Several times, in fact. But I think this is a situation that seems like it won’t fix itself, and neither you nor Liam seem capable of fixing it, as you have proven over the course of seven years. I have given the two of you seven. Years. As the eldest – oh shut up, mentally eldest and in a relationship with the eldest, that has to count for something – as the eldest, I think that gives me the right to intervene.

“So twelve years ago, Young Liam and I made the Rule. Three years after that, I brought home a really cool, significantly, as in two years, older Boy, and Young Liam was smitten. Of course, with twelve years it was but heterosexual admiration.

“But as the years passed – stop laughing, Louis, I’m telling the story and I can tell it however I want – Young Liam started to realise that there was something special about The Boy. He didn’t stop liking him, even when The Boy was really mean and frustrating sometimes. And then we started dating people. The Boy and I, I mean. The Boy and Young Liam’s older brother. And little fourteen, fifteen year old Young Liam realised that he felt different about me dating a lot of boys and girls, and the Boy dating a lot of boys and – boys.

“It didn’t take long for Young Liam to recognize that while he was mostly uninterested in his brother’s love life, the feeling he got when seeing The Boy out holding hands with a stranger was envy, for Young Liam wanted to be that stranger and hold hands with The Boy and do other naughty stuff that I really don’t want to imagine Liam doing with you, eh, The Boy, I mean.

“Now, this is the part that’s really important for you, like, right now. What, no, you did need to hear the other stuff. That was all really important, okay, or you wouldn’t get what happens now. Yes, even the part about the rainbow hanger.

“Basically, Young Liam was in tears, because the love of his life showed practically no interest in him. So he decided it was time to get over his pathetic crush and find someone better than The Boy, who was busy being stupid with People Who Were Not Liam. He didn’t actually do anything though, not until People Who Were Not Liam turned into his very own brother. 

“His heart thoroughly broken, Young Liam set out to find a Princess, and he found her in…uh… _The Princess_. The Princess was the perfect girlfriend, pretty and unassuming and Young Liam and her got along well enough.

“Of course, The Princess was not The Boy. Who, as Young Liam had to witness at the Eve of Christmas, was being cheated on. Young Liam’s brother, um. Ha, Young Liam’s brother, _Prince Harry_ – don’t give me that look, Lou – was kissing King Nicholas under the magic mistletoe. Very passionately. Several times. That was a good kiss, I kinda always assumed that Nick would probably be like, an awful kisser but – oh. Right. Sorry.

“Anyways, that misunderstanding was cleared up eventually by Prince Harry himself, who told Young Liam about _The Great Scheme To Get Into Grimmy’s Pants (And His Heart, Too)_. So all was well for now.

“Of course, there was one thing that Young Liam had not considered when starting to date The Princess, and that was him not eventually falling for her. Also his bad conscious. You know how Liam gets.

“So Young Liam is with The Princess, but he does not love her, for he still loves The Boy. And since Young Liam is very noble and honourable, he tells her so.

“There were many tears, mostly on the side of Young Liam, because he felt so terribly, terribly bad about what he had done to The Princess. Yes, Lou, it was a dick move, but remember, Liam’s still fifteen when he comes up with his brilliant plan. And he really did feel awful about it, you saw yourself how much he beat himself up over it.

“So like, that’s why Young Liam broke up with The Princess. It’s because he was still so painfully, pathetically, endlessly in love with The Boy. And to my, and everybody else’s knowledge, he still is today.”

 

It’s quiet after Harry has finished his story. 

 

The big grandfather clock Nick got Harry for his last birthday is ticking away in the living room, but everything else stays silent, like the furniture and Harry’s ugly cat and the birds outside are all waiting for Louis’ reaction.

He can’t say anything though, is still trying to process all of that information.

Harry’s getting impatient, jiggling his leg and biting his lip. “You did get that you’re The Boy, and Dani’s The Princess, right?” he asks, making Louis snort unattractively.

“Yes, Harold, I would have to be completely shitfaced not to realise that,” Louis says deadpan. “That’s not really the issue. I’m just. This is all a bit much, okay?”

For once, Harry just nods.

 

Nick comes back half an hour later with Pizza for lunch. As soon as Louis is finished, he flees the apartment, so he doesn’t have to listen to Nick and Harry shagging.

 

He sleeps at their apartment one last night, then they throw him out. “Fix it, Louis,” Harry says, “Fix it and be nice to my little brother.”

Louis isn’t sure if he can, is the thing. He knows that it’s still him who screwed up the other night, by making what they had ‘just a quick shag between mates’ and then denying Liam in front of Danielle, and god, what if Liam thinks Louis is ashamed?

 

It’s nearly midnight by the time he has convinced himself to go home. In the hallway he comes across Niall.

“You know you made Liam cry, right?” Niall asks without much of a greeting, casually walking up to Louis and trapping him against a wall. Louis never noticed that Niall’s actually a bit taller than him before.

“I did?” he says weakly. Before he can assure Niall that it was a mutual thing, the younger boy goes on.

“If I didn’t know how hung up on him you are and that therefore you must have simply been the biggest emotionally crippled cunt in the world without intending to, I’d be punching ya in the face right now.”

“You know that that’s a really misogynistic slur you just-“

Niall punches him in the face. Louis suspects he’s going easy on him though, because he doesn’t pass out or anything. He does tear up, but that’s at the thought of making Liam cry.

“I made Liam cry,” he sniffles, “Might as well start murdering puppies and burning little kids’ drawings.” 

Niall nods and lets him go. “I really hope you’re still invited to movie night next week,” he says, which is about as clear as the punch, and leaves Louis standing around dejectedly.

(Later, much later, Niall apologises for using that word. He never apologises for punching Louis, which Louis is eternally grateful for.)

 

Liam isn’t home, but then again, Louis didn’t really expect him to be. 

It’s the 22nd of December, and it seems like Louis’ 24th birthday will be fucking miserable. He didn’t make plans to go home, intending to do stuff with his friends, but he doubts that that’s gonna happen now that he’s gone and screwed everything up.

He falls asleep eventually and only gets up around noon. Liam’s still gone.

 

By four, Louis sits down on the sofa in the living room, smothered by the emptiness of the apartment and the feeling of nothing quite matching up, and takes his phone. He has to unlock it four times, because every time he’s about to press call, he ends up just sort of staring at the little photo until his the screen fades into black.

The fourth time there’s a bang in the apartment above him, a window falling shut from a draft or something, and Louis semi-accidentally calls Liam.

Liam doesn’t pick up. Louis sinks back into the sofa cushions very, very slowly with every ring and stares at the ceiling, unsure whether he should get out the Bailey’s or crawl back into bed. However, only seconds after being told that the person he is trying to reach is unavailable, his phone starts ringing.

“I’m sorry, I meant to pick up but when I reached out for my phone it slipped off the table and _I wouldn’t do that Lou_ , I wouldn’t not answer you, okay, so, um.”

Liam’s voice is tinny through the speakers, a bit empty and he’s talking way too fast but he answered, Liam is willing to listen to Louis, so everything is alright and Louis shouldn’t panic.

“Hey, Li,” he all but whispers. Then he clears his throat and starts again. “Hey, Liam. Er. How are you?”

There’s a strange noise on the other line, something between a laugh and a sigh. “I’m okay, I guess. I mean, I wasn’t, but like, I’m okay now.”

He doesn’t ask how Louis is, but that’s cool, because Louis doesn’t want to elaborate on the crying mess of feelings he’s been for the past couple days.

“That’s great,” he says instead. “Look, I was a total dick and I know I hurt you even though I intended to do the exact opposite and I’m really sorry and if you’re not completely done with me I’d be really happy if you came back to me because you’re strong and noble and perfect and warm and I kind of need you a lot but I’d also genuinely understand if you want some space so please don’t feel pressured?”

Which is a lot more than he meant to say, but it feels good to get it out. 

There’s a long moment of silence. Louis sort of expected that, so it’s not too painful.

“Jesus,” he hears eventually, and Liam sounds pretty breathless. “Wow, um. That’s. I wasn’t intending on not coming back, Lou, I mean. It’s technically my apartment.”

“Oh, right, I didn’t mean, of course it’s, I guess I’ll just,” Louis stutters, feeling stupid for forgetting about that.

“Wait, no,” Liam interrupts him, louder this time. “That is not what I meant, god, I’m not that much of an arse. I wouldn’t make you move out. You need to let me explain, okay Lou, because I think you got this all wrong, probably because you just left without us talking things out and then I just left without explaining myself.”

Louis nods, belatedly remembering he’s still on the phone. “Uh, yeah, that sounds. Very mature. Wow, I’m glad you’re still more mature than me, Li, or this would probably be even harder than it already is.”

And god fucking dammit, he has missed Liam’s laugh.

“Yeah, well, you just keep telling yourself you’re not grown up. Anyways. Um. So like, you know that me and Dani, we were just meeting up as friends, right? Haz said he told you that. And I was really confused about that for a couple minutes, and then you were going all, ‘it didn’t happen’ in front of Danielle and it was all so confusing, and I didn’t know what to do. 

“And then you wouldn’t come back and Haz called to tell me you were crying on his sofa and if I could please do something about it already? So I went to do some stuff, and I forgot to tell you, and I didn’t think about you coming home and me not being there, and like, how that must have looked.”

“Yeah, well, I mean, I wouldn’t have been too surprised, if you did. Leave, I mean,” Louis admits, knowing just how pathetic he probably sounds.

“I’d never, Lou.”

Liam sounds so fucking honest it hurts, and Louis doesn’t know what to say, just tries not to be too obvious about how he’s choking up a bit, gripping the couch cushions so hard they might rip.

“I’ll be back tomorrow though,” Liam continues, and Louis can hear the smile, but he can also hear Liam’s concern, so he’s probably not being as subtle about his tiny freak out as he was hoping. “I’ll be back, yeah, drive home around half ten so I’ll be there by noon.”

There’s a moment of silence in which Louis first almost falls off the sofa and then goes through a mental list of places that are two and a half hours from London that Liam might run off to, and then almost falls off again when the penny drops.

“You drove all the way back to your family because we fucked?” he wails, “Oh my god, what did I do, I am the actual worst, why-“

“No!” Liam yelps, “Will you stop! I just had to do some stuff over here, I wasn’t running away from you!”

 

They don’t talk for much longer, and Louis never learns what exactly Liam is doing, but he also doesn’t have to panic as much anymore. He sends Harry a text calling him a traitor for telling Liam he cried and that Louis owes him big time, and calls Zayn just to chat a bit and diffuse some of the tension he’s built up. 

And while he’s at it, he also calls his mum. Fizz steals the phone to ask him how she should go about dating this boy she has a crush on, and they’re all looking forward to seeing him. It’s nice to talk to people who aren’t mad at him.

 

He watches all the Toy Story movies and has takeout for dinner around midnight. That’s nothing unusual in itself; the weird part is that Louis can’t eat anything. He manages two, three bites of the absolutely delicious Chow Mein, but ultimately lets his nerves get the better of him. He does put the leftovers in the fridge instead of leaving them standing around, because maybe Liam would like some.

 

He feels even more pathetic when, as he’s stuffing the boxes between a milk carton and a bunch of carrots, he realises he actually got Liam’s favourite takeout, Chinese, instead of pizza. He always gets pizza if it’s his choice. Everybody knows that. Him, Niall and Zayn are Pizza, Liam and Haz are Chinese. It’s always been that way.

 

His nose is starting to get a bit cold as he’s standing there in front of the opened fridge, contemplating the deeper meaning of takeout in relation to pining, so he closes the door and sits down on the floor, leaning back against the leg of the kitchen table. 

He kind of wants to cry, except he doesn’t have a reason anymore, since apparently Liam does not in fact hate Louis, even said he’d come back. He said he’d come back, and it sounded a bit like a promise, so he’ll be back. No need for his heart to lings to constrict painfully, his heart to stutter. 

 

Louis _hates_ being weak.

 

“Please come back,” he whispers. Of course, there’s nobody here to hear it, except maybe the mostly untouched Chinese takeout, so he blushes a bit and scrambles up, heading for his room.

The door to Liam’s room is open though, and his bed is unmade, tacky blue sheets making Louis wonder if he’s even changed the bedding since. Well.

So really, he’s just being considerate, checking if maybe he could be helpful and like, clean up the mess he made, literally, and if it ends with him falling asleep curled up in Liam’s bed after half an hour of breathing in Liam’s scent, well, then it’s not his fault, is it.

 

He wakes up to the room being flooded with light and Liam making a funny little yelp.

“Hrmm”, Louis says. “ _Mmpf_.”

“Lou? Why- Lou, did something happen? Did you like, accidentally burn your own bed? Spill juice on it? Did you get too drunk to find your own room again?”

Blinking into the sunlight, Louis raises his head. It takes him a couple seconds to put the pieces together, and once he’s got it, he just flops back over with a groan and buries his head in Liam’s ugly blue pillows. 

“Sorry,” he grumbles, trying to work up the courage to look at Liam, “Didn’t mean to, um. Fall asleep.”

He can hear Liam’s frown when he says, “Why were you in my bed though? I mean. Um. I don’t mind, but why?”

Slowly, Louis sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He takes a deep breath and finally looks Liam in the eyes. “Because it seems like I can’t go five days without missing so much it makes my judgement run out the front door.”

A smile starts spreading on Liam’s face, makes him look fourteen all over again, only still really hot. It’s fucking devastating.

“Okay,” he chuckles, “That still doesn’t explain why you’re in my bed.”

“The smell,” Louis tells his knees, quiet and half hoping Liam will let him off the hook.

“I’m sorry,” Liam smirks, taking a step toward Louis and leaning forward a bit. “What about the smell?”

And Louis knows exactly what he’s doing, that little shithead, because it’s what Louis used to do to Harry. Force him to say things out loud, make him squirm and blush, and what’s worse, it’s working, Louis’ face hot and his heart beating.

“It smells like you, you twat,” he snaps, but it doesn’t come out half as unaffected as he intended. He mostly sounds helplessly in love and very, very pathetic.

At least once Louis admits that, Liam stops looking all that smug and a bit more bashful, but really fucking happy. “Okay,” he says, and then again, “Okay.”

 

It’s hard to breathe for a moment, Louis staring at the floor and fighting against the constricting feeling in his throat, calming himself down because “Okay” isn’t “Leave right now,” and it isn’t “How could you” either.

The mattress dips as Liam sits down next to him, his stupidly big, warm hand settling on Louis’ back, rubbing small, comforting circles into his worn out shirt.

“I got you a present, you know,” Liam says, the non sequitur making Louis look up at him and frown in confusion before he remembers his birthday.

“Cheers,” he says, shaking his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes – no, he did not cry, why would you think that, Louis never cries. 

“Didn’t have to do that, really, mate,” he adds after a pause, carding his fingers through his hair, getting it to the side and out of his face. It’s been growing. Louis’ been telling himself it’s because he doesn’t have the time to have it cut but it might also have something to do with Liam saying he liked it.

“Don’t even,” Liam snorts, squeezing the back of Louis’ neck and getting up to open his suitcase, “You’d have whined about it for ages if I didn’t get you anything.”

“Not true,” Louis protests, even though both of them know it’s a blatant lie. He stays sitting on Liam’s bed, still just in shirt and boxers, watching Liam’s broad shoulders and sturdy back and feeling distinctly lovelorn. 

Liam drops back down next to him with a small box in his hands, Louis pulling up one knee so he’s facing Liam and making grabby hands for it. “Happy Birthday, Lou,” Liam smiles, puppies and sunshine and fucking rainbows in every ounce of his stupid voice as he gently sets the present on Louis’ lap.

The box is wrapped neatly in the penis-printed paper that all of Louis’ presents are wrapped in since he came out to Harry and that, he presumes, exists in the household of every single one of his friends. Louis still doesn’t know where they get it, but he loves it to pieces. It makes him giggle to imagine Liam folding it neatly around the box, eyebrows knitted together as he very carefully makes sure the sides align.

When he opens the lid after ripping the paper off, there’s just a bunch of old newspapers, crunched up and almost spilling over. Louis is about to congratulate Liam on the lamest joke present ever when he notices the weight of his present and concludes there must be something buried under all the paper.

Liam isn’t saying anything, just watching Louis pull out the paper and toss it in the vague direction of the trash can until his fingers touch something. He carefully pulls the object out of the box, recognizing it quickly as a mug.

It’s not just any mug though.

It’s Liam’s mug. The one with the smiley face and the little nose bump. The one Louis would use every single time he’d have tea at Harry’s house, even when he was being an arse to Liam. He drank out of it the very last day before he’d gone off to the States and the very first he came back, and whenever he’d visited Anne with Harry in the past year.

It’s something he’s always associated with Liam. Whether he fawned over how absolutely adorable he found it or used it just to spite Liam, nursed his hangovers bent over it or calmed his nerves before big events, he’d take one look at the slightly asymmetric eyes or feel the nose under his thumb, and Liam’s smile would be right there. 

Liam’s getting antsy next to him, and before Louis can even say thank you, he starts talking.

“I just,” he bursts out, “You always take it, right, no matter what happens, you always drink out of this one, so I though, you know, you seem to really like it? And I thought you might as well officially own it. And maybe, I mean. I sort of made it, actually, in like, sixth grade? Maybe it’ll make you, um, think of me?”

“You made it?” Louis asks, no longer able to hold back a smile so broad it hurts.

Liam flushes very prettily. “I. Yeah. I used to think it wasn’t good enough to give anyone, was a bit embarrassed, really, and then you came along, and you probably don’t remember but-“

“I said I liked it, didn’t I,” Louis interrupts him, still grinning; “I said it was the best mug ever, yeah?”

“You did,” Liam nods, scratching at the back of his neck. “That was it, really, no way I could have resisted falling for you after that, right?” He laughs it off, but he’s a shit liar, and it’s obvious that there’s truth to it.

Louis very carefully sets the mug on his bedside table. “Fell for me, did you,” he prodded. “Have you, um, gotten up yet? Or are you still. Well.” 

Louis’ heartbeat is way too fast as he lets himself hope just this once.

“I think,” Liam says, voice soft with affection, “I haven’t ever really stopped falling.”

 

Blinking once, twice, Louis says, “Oh.”

 

And then, because Liam is looking at him with so much love that Louis can’t deal with it, he quickly looks away and blushes bright red. “You’re such a sap, Liam James Payne,” he declares loudly, making Liam giggle. He doesn’t deny it though.

 

Outside, it’s terribly bright and a bit of cool air is coming in through the half opened windows, making the curtains swing softly back and forth. It’s very fascinating and a good distraction from all the feelings Louis would have to face if he’d look at Liam right now. 

Then Liam takes his hand, squeezes it. “Are we…okay?” he asks.

And Louis isn’t gonna screw this up, so he looks Liam in the eyes and nods. “We’re great,” he says, and after a deep breath: “Can I kiss you?”

Liam just reaches out for him, pulls Louis close enough to touch their foreheads together. “Go ahead,” he finally answers, eyes crinkling up from his smile. 

So Louis moves in, taking his time and gently nudging Liam’s jaw with one hand. Only when he has him where he wants him, Louis breaches the two inches to touch his lips to Liam’s, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling. Liam’s breath hitches just the tiniest bit and he kisses back, just as softly and sweetly as Louis. He smells like summer and comfort and home, and his mouth is warm and lovely.

It’s easy to climb onto Liam’s lap, melt into him and be held. Louis moves his hand from Liam’s jaw to the back of his neck, dragging his thumb through the short hair there, sighs a bit and arches back into Liam’s hands where they settle on the small of his back.

It’s strange how much bigger Liam is nowadays, how much broader his shoulders, how much stronger his arms, making Louis feel safe and shielded. Liam’s thumbs rest on Louis’ sides, just under his ribcage, and his fingertips almost meet at his spine. 

Louis feels a bit overwhelmed, his heartbeat going crazy like it usually only does after he’s run for over an hour. His lips feel all tingly and _oh, God_ , he’s kissing Liam. He’s actually kissing Liam.

Taking in a shaky breath, he draws back and buries his face in Liam’s neck. One of Liam’s hands move to rub small circles between Louis’ shoulders, helping Louis calm down a bit, catch his breath. 

 

After a while, Louis notices that he’s been gripping Liam’s shirt rather strongly for some time, so he slowly unfurls his fingers and leaves them flat over Liam’s chest, feels it raise and fall with his breath, the dull, steady beat of his heart.

“You alright, Lou?” Liam asks eventually, pressing a kiss into Louis’ hair. Louis nods, and then he chuckles and half-heartedly slaps Liam’s shoulder. 

“I should be asking you that, kid,” he says drily, raising his head to give Liam A Look, which is made impossible by Liam’s stupidly happy face. It’s hard to give people Looks while snogging them.

 

They make out on the bed for what feels like hours, and then Liam gives Louis a piggy back ride into the kitchen and they have breakfast even though it’s almost one in the afternoon.

 

Then there’s a ginormous birthday party with all of their mates. Louis gets a big pile of Penis print paper wrapped presents, the new national team’s jersey – which isn’t as bad as the 2011 one, good news there – and the third season of Homeland – which Liam hasn’t seen yet, shame on him.

To literally nobody’s surprise, he and Liam aren’t very subtle about the being together thing, and everyone tells them how cute they are, until Louis starts making out with Liam just to show everyone that ‘cute’ is not what he wants them to be known as. 

 

This has several interesting results. For one, while most of the guys groan and complain, Perrie watches them unashamedly and slightly amused. And then there’s Liam, who gets increasingly into it until he eventually makes a pained, needy noise and takes Louis wrists in one hand to drag him off to his bedroom.

“Louis, you tease,” he groans, literally throwing Louis on the bed, “You can’t just- Jesus, Lou!”

Louis is smirking at Liam, stretching out his limbs and licking his lips. “Wow, didn’t know you had that in you,” he drawls. “You gonna fuck me, big boy?”

Obviously that makes Liam blush a bit, but it certainly doesn’t stop him. With a few practised movements he’s stripping out of his shirt, climbing onto the bed and starting to undress Louis, who’s mostly getting in the way while trying to touch every square inch of Liam’s torso. 

“Liam,” he whines, “wanna touch, need to touch you.”

Liam smiles, half smug, half fond, and shushes Louis, who starts to protest.  
Only then Louis is bare chested and Liam starts nipping on his collar bones and somewhere along the way, Louis’ sentences stop being coherent.

 

Louis probably should have expected it or something, but it’s the most intense sex he’s ever had, because Liam just – he knows Louis, he knows him so, so well.

Liam knows when to be rough and when to be gentle, when to tease and when to give in. Liam knows when to hold Louis down and make him beg, and he knows when he needs to kiss Louis, languid and dirty, deep and desperate.

And when Louis whimpers and reaches for Liam, Liam pulls him up into his lap so Louis can cling to him and be as close as possible, so Louis can whisper choked up confessions into Liam’s ear and hide his face on Liam’s shoulder. 

 

Later, when they’re entangled in those disgustingly bright blue sheets, neither of them quite sure where Liam ends and Louis starts, when Liam’s hand is scritching through Louis’ hair and Louis is about to fall asleep, he remembers their guests and starts laughing.

“Oh god,” he says, gasping for air, “Liam, babe, we forgot the party. We didn’t even eat any of the food, and now they’re all gone, and we just forgot!”

Liam starts laughing too, his cute little giggle evolving into a full belly laugh, and when he finally catches his breath he presses a kiss to Louis’ forehead and says, “Gosh, I really love you, you know that?”, and Louis just says, “Yeah,” and a while later, “I love you too, Liam,” and it’s so fucking cheesy, but so, so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! This was really fun to write, and you're all such darlings, it's a pleasure to write for you. 
> 
> I hope I didn't let you down, (sorry for the under-representation of all the amazing women in their lives), and kudos and comments have me giggling and rolling around on the floor like a proper fool, if that's any motivation.

**Author's Note:**

> (Warnings for mention of bullying, one intentional misgendering as insult, in later chapters use of a gendered slur, discussion of rape, non-consensual kissing. 
> 
> The side dish of Gryles is not technically underage, since we're in Britain in this fic, but Harry is seventeen when they start dating. Just as a heads-up.)
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you liked it! Show me your critique, praise and deep philosophical disquisitions with kudos, in comments or on tumblr (url: nasobem) - it always makes my day!
> 
> [EDIT: HOLY SHIT- to all you who commented, you're all so incredibly kind, I wasn't kidding about the squealing with joy, I can't even, wow. Thank you! Thank you so much, for kudos and comments alike. Not sure about a sequel, but I'll definitely write more LiLo/Gryles in the future :-)]


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